Shadows of a Sunless Day
by Alasse
Summary: Oliver Wood has been missing in northern Russia for weeks. Now that he has been returned to the Order, everyone thinks that his wounds will heal and he will return to normal. But a great danger still threatens him, and it threatens to use him as well...AU
1. Chapter One: Stirrings

A/N: This really started from the title I suppose. My science teacher was talking about the "solar rotation of the earth" and a lot of other stuff...anyway, it was really boring. But one phrase caught my mind, and that's the title of this story. And the story was built around the title.  
  
Just as a warning, this story will have little to no romance, slash, or anything that JK didn't put in there. It takes place after the events of OotP, about two weeks after the school year's ended. Spoilers are included Any love that is in the story will be bitter, painful, and most likely unrequited. Why? Cause I'm evil like that. There will most likely be some torture scenes...nothing REALLY bad, but not acceptable for children under the age of...lessee...ten. Okay? Okay.  
  
Disclaimer: JK and the characters are thanking God that I don't own them...I tend to return the characters in slightly worse shape than what I found them....oops.  
  
Harry Potter sighed despondently and looked out of his window. There was not a reason in the world he should be this depressed. It was a bright June day out, the temperature had to be at least 80 degrees F, nothing was wrong. Except for perhaps the major fact that Lord Voldemort was back, and in a few weeks everyone he cared about could be dead. Well, everyone he cared about that was left that is...  
  
He sighed angrily and pounded his head against the window-pane. Though he knew it wasn't going to make anything better, he couldn't help himself from wishing that Sirius was back. This summer was actually worse than last summer. he was maintaining regular correspondence with Hermione, Ron, and all the other members of the Order, but there were no letters from Sirius to brighten his mood. There would never be any more letters from Sirius.  
  
He perked up as he saw his daily owl flying towards the house. "Hullo Pig," he said, letting the tiny owl in and scratching the top of his head fondly. Ron's owl bounced up and down on his window-sill while Hedwig brought her head out from under her wing and looked haughtily at him. With some level of difficulty, Harry removed the letter from Pigwideon's leg, and let the owl over to get some water from Hedwig. She watched him with a glare that was not unlike that of Harry's Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall. He laughed at the resemblance, and turned to the post.  
  
It was rather larger than the usual letter from either Lupin, Hagrid, Hermione, or Ron. Sometimes Mrs. Weasley would write long letters, but this was positively a novel, judging by the thickness. He opened the envelope, and found that the reason that the envelope was so thick was that a copy of the Daily Prophet had been wedged in there. His curiosity aroused, Harry scanned the Prophet, wondering what was so important. He finally reached it on the fifth page, a small blurb that was circled. He scanned it urgently.  
  
Puddlemere Confused about Keeper  
  
Puddlemere United had no comment as to why their Keeper could not be found. This is the second week that he has not been able to be reached. He disappeared after a game played in northern Russia, and has not been seen or heard from since.  
"Yes we're worried," a spokesperson said irritably, "but he's a good chap. No, of course he's not in any trouble, why would you say that?"  
Rumors remain to be quelled that this disappearance has to relate with the return of You-Know-Who.  
  
Harry stopped to consider this for a moment. Didn't Oliver Wood play for Puddlemere? Yes, he was RESERVE Keeper, not the actual Keeper. From the look of this article it had been their main Keeper that had been missing. He realized with a sharp pang of shame that he hadn't followed up on Oliver's career that much. Then again, he justified to himself, perhaps the return of Voldemort was an itty-bit more important than who was playing Keeper for Puddlemere.  
  
For the first time Harry noticed a small slip of parchment that had fluttered out of the envelope. He picked it up and noticed it was Hermione's neat writing at the top of the letter. He prepared himself for a long tussle with his brain; Hermione's letters were often code-filled. She was a conspiracy theorist ever since Umbridge had been at Hogwarts, always insisting that the mail wasn't safe unless it was sent in code.  
  
Dear Harry,  
It feels like it's been ages since we've seen you. You might want to come down for a visit, though we're all burrowed up in here. Most everyone is here, and it's not a good order either. I wonder if you're missing Quidditch. I know it keeps all of your attention. Something's wrong with you and that game, you've got a head of wood about you and your stubbornness to play Quidditch.  
Hope you'll be over here with a visitor like a bolt.  
Yours, Hermione  
  
Harry felt like crying as he read the letter.  
  
With a deep breath he steeled himself. Well, start with the first sentence. Nothing appeared hidden in there. Right. Good one Potter. Onto the second sentence. "You might want to come down for a visit," he repeated to himself. Well, it sounded very much as if she wanted him to visit them. "We're all burrowed up in here." Well. All right then. Burrowed up in here, burrowed, burrowing...THE Burrow...THE BURROW!  
  
He snickered in satisfaction. Either Hermione had decided to be nice and make the code easy, or he was just plain smart. Either way, it was turning out to be the easiest letter he'd had all summer long. So what did he know? Apparently Hermione was at the Burrow with the Weasleys. What did the next sentence mean? Most everyone is here and it's not a good order either. Huh?  
  
It's not a good order? That didn't make any sense on a code scale, let alone grammatical. Maybe Hermione had finally lost it. Maybe she was just doing this as a cruel joke, though it wasn't really like her come to think of it. His brain started pinging questions around while he idly doodled something on the corner of the parchment. After about ten minutes he paused to see what he had written.  
  
Odd, he mused, biting his lower lip. It looked sort of like a phoenix...a phoenix...the order of the phoenix...  
  
"That's it!" Harry yelled, jumping straight up into the air. Hedwig gave a startled hoot and Pig looked at him oddly. "Sorry," he muttered to the two owls. He heard Uncle Vernon give some sort of shout of protest, but interestingly enough, Harry found out he couldn't care less. "The Order of the Phoenix is at the Burrow," he told himself, feeling immensely pleased. "Now what?" he asked the parchment, feeling like he might ask McGonagall if he could take several more advanced classes. Obviously he was very intelligent.  
  
"Blah, blah, blah, Quidditch, I am not obsessed by it," Harry said crossly at the paper. "At least not as obsessed as Oliver Wood was by it." He spared a smile for a fond remembrance of being unceremoniously awoken at five in the morning on a cold November morning to practice Quidditch. "Hermione, your letters are making about as much sense as Trelawney," he mumbled to the parchment, trying to figure out what all the stuff about Quidditch was.  
  
"Hope you'll be over here with a visitor like a bolt," he muttered to himself. That was easy enough. She wanted him to fly to the Burrow with a member of the Order of the Phoenix on his Firebolt. "All right. Maybe the other stuff's just to throw someone off."  
  
He grazed her letter again. Something was bothering him. A head of wood, and a stubbornness to play the game...a head of wood, and he was obsessed by the game...wood...obsessed...  
  
"Oh Merlin's Beard," Harry moaned, knocking over a chair in his urgency to reach the paper. He scanned it, and found what he had been missing the first time: there was a snapshot of the missing Keeper directly underneath the article. Because of the paper's fold, Harry had not seen it yet. With his heart sinking into his knees, Harry stared at the photo. He knew that face, it was that face that had cajoled the Gryffindor Quidditch team to the Quidditch Cup, it was that face that could stop Fred and George Weasley from their tricks...it was that face which could be anywhere in Russia...  
  
It was Oliver Wood's face.  
  
Hermione Granger impatiently waited at Ron's window. She had sent the letter off to Harry, surely she would get an answer back today! Perhaps it was too hard for him, she wondered, a cold tendril of fear seizing her heart. I did try to make it easier...  
  
Her heart lightened as she saw a tiny owl floating back. She reached out of the window and snatched Pigwideon into the room. He gave a small hoot of shock, but then Hermione was untying the letter that was around his leg. Pig gave her an affronted look and winged to the cage to get some rest.  
  
"Hermione," Ron said as he galumphed up the stairs. She rolled her eyes. One could hear him coming from a while away. A herd of rampaging Hippogriffs was quieter than that one solitary boy. "Did you get his answer?" Ron asked, poking his red head in the room.  
  
"Just got it," she said smartly, unfolding the letter and reading it. Just three words were on the paper, hastily scrawled out in Harry's untidy script.  
  
Come get me.  
  
"All right," Hermione said, feeling determined. This was something that she, Ron and Harry were doing for the Order! They really could help! She felt a surge of fierce pride as she looked at the tall gangly Ron, his freckles sticking out on his nose, his tall frame hunched against the peeling doorframe.  
  
"Hermione, what'd you reckon that we'd better go tell them the answer," Ron suggested to her, breaking her stare and thoughts. He shifted uncomfortably as she moved her brown eyes up to look at his face. "I know Mum's been worried sick about him all summer long, and everyone's here. It'll be the perfect time."  
  
She followed him down the stairs with Harry's answer in hand. She had spent so much time worrying: what if the letter were intercepted? What if Harry didn't understand her message? What if he didn't know what was at stake here? She shook her head, not being able to dispel the greatest fear from her mind: what if Wood was already dead? She shuddered so violently that Ron gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, are you okay?" he asked in his deep voice that was so drastically different from the squeaky voice he used to use. When had his voice changed? She couldn't remember.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," she said, nodding and smiling at him. Ron squeezed her shoulder once before continuing down the stairs. "I just got the chills," she explained further to her best friend.  
  
"Mum, we got Harry's answer!" Ron announced as he came down the stairs. The low chatter subsided as Dumbledore stood up.  
  
"And what has he said?" he asked in the voice that made Hermione believe that somehow, someway, things were going to be all right.  
  
"He wants to leave now," Ron said, with a large amount of pride for his friend. The people sitting clustered around the small table relaxed.  
  
It was quite a group of names that were sitting around the table, a whole slew of legends, even without Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration and the Gryiffidor Head of House, Remus Lupin, former Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Tonks with her hair a rich gold today. Mad-Eye Moody was sitting restlessly at the table, one of his legs jiggling and his magical eye spinning around at a 360 degree angle. Bill Weasley was sitting beside Moody, the earring and hair still firmly in place. Mrs. Weasley kept on casting dark looks to the hair and then fondling her wand with an expression of longing on her face.  
  
Ginny was perched at the landing of the stairs, trying to listen to what was going on. Ron and Hermione politely stepped over her. Charlie stood up to take the letter, his arm in a sling from a nasty burn. He had been sent home to get better and while he was home, he was making good use of his free time in the order.  
  
"Right," Lupin said. "I suppose we could go get him tomorrow, weather permitting," he cast a look up at the blue sky, "or if anyone wants, we could go get him tonight."  
  
"I think tonight is a little too early Remus," Dumbledore said. "Give him time to get packed and to say goodbye to his aunt and uncle."  
  
Ron snorted at the thought of what that goodbye would sound like.  
  
"Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked as he crept down the stairs. The enormous man was sitting in a chair with aunt Petunia bustling around the kitchen.  
  
Uncle Vernon grunted. Harry, who knew to take this as a sign that he was listening, continued.  
  
"Well, I just got a message from some of my school friends, and they want me to leave soon."  
  
Another grunt, this time with some satisfaction in it.  
  
"Well, if that's all right with you, I'll just go to get ready then shall I?"  
  
Grunt.  
  
"Thank you very much. Have a nice rest of the summer." Another grunt. Harry bounded up the stairs, packed his trunk within six minutes and paced around his room. Something bad had happened to Oliver...something perhaps fatal...and the Order wanted him to look into it.  
  
He had to admit that he wasn't really all that close to Oliver. They were friends really, but outside of Quidditch they never really saw each other that much. Oh yes, Oliver would talk to Harry, but just to give him strategies. Wouldn't it be better if they got someone who was closer to Oliver? But come to think about he really didn't have any friends...did he? Harry didn't know. He supposed that the Weasley twins could count as friends, but they spent most of their time annoying Oliver than anything else.  
  
Hmmmm. Did Wood have any friends? This was a puzzle, and Harry wasn't particulary good at puzzles. Hermione's letter had taken all of his brain power for at least a week. He flopped down on his bed and buried his face in the pillow. Everything would be explained to him when he got to the Burrow...everything would be all right when he saw Dumbledore.  
  
"Yes!" Angelina Johnson sailed around on her broomstick and punched the air. Alicia Spinnet flew to the ground, snatched the Quaffle that they were practicing with and came back up.  
  
"You make a terrible Keeper Spinnet," Angelina joked as she caught the thrown Quaffle. "I think you're worse than Ron was at the beginning of last year."  
  
"I'm that bad?" Alicia asked, wrinkling up her nose. "Well." She shook her pale blonde hair out of her eyes. "If you think I'm that bad, then I'm obviously too bad for you to practice with," she said as she made to land.  
  
"No, Lish, I didn't mean that!" Angelina said hastily, swooping down to stop her friend. Alicia smiled as she came back up to hover in front of the goals in Angelina's backyard.  
  
"I knew that," Alicia said easily. She paused for a moment, then flew straight at Angelina, seizing the Quaffle from under her arm. "Your turn to Keep now Johnson," she said, a victorious grin on her face.  
  
"Alisha, you are evil," Angelina said in the tone of a long suffering person. She shook her head and flew in front of the goals. "Wish we had a real Keeper," she said absently. "It would make it a lot more interesting. Wish Wood was here," she said.  
  
"Oh do you?" Alicia asked with a devilish grin on her face. Angelina looked at her for a moment. "Exactly why do you wish he was here?"  
  
"Not like that you weirdo!" Angelina insisted, flying around the field and smacking her repeatedly. "I mean as a friend," ("A special friend?" Alicia asked) Angelina clarified. "And as a Keeper too. He makes a bloody good Keeper."  
  
"Yeah," Alicia agreed absently mindedly. "Listen, I'm famished," she said, checking her watch while hovering on her broomstick. "We've been out here for nearly two hours, and it's not getting any cooler."  
  
Angelina nodded, as she knew her own face was probably red with exertion. "Yeah, I could do with a snack," she said, landing her broom down and walking into her house.  
  
"Lucky your folks live out here so you can practice without anyone seeing," Alicia said, gesturing to the wide fields. "By the way, thanks for having me over," she said as she held the door open for Angelina.  
  
"Don't mention it," Angelina said, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice. Alicia opened her mouth and Angelina interrupted her. "No, really, don't." she smirked at Alicia and lay down on the soft carpet. She looked at a photo album while Alicia flicked open an old copy of The Daily Prophet.  
  
There was a photo of when she had made the team in her second year. It was really a surprise, her making the team. She had always thought of Quidditch as something she could just do, nothing special. But apparently it had been to the people in Gryffindor. There was a picture of her fooling around with Fred and George, a picture of her, Katie, and Alicia together, and a picture of Wood talking with Harry over some last minute things. There was a picture of the entire team having a snowball fight in the winter, and a picture of just Angelina and Wood after a match, their faces and robes sweaty, Wood's face alight with victory, his arm thrown around Angelina.  
  
"That was taken right after the Ravenclaw game in his seventh year," she muttered to herself, smiling at the memory. Good game. Good year.  
  
"What?" Alicia asked absently, her light blue eyes flicking over the paper. Angelina murmured a reply, and Alicia nodded her head.  
  
Blah, blah, blah, she thought to herself. Nothing much has happened lately, after the end of last school year. It's been a rather uneventful summer so far actually. She hummed a song that sounded an awful lot like "Weasley is Our King" as she flipped through the rest of the paper.  
  
A small article at the middle of the page caught her eye and she read it with growing horror. She looked at the familiar smiling face below the article and spat out her pumpkin juice all over the paper, soaking the face, which glared at her. She had seen that glare before when she had failed to make a pass, or turn too quickly...  
  
Alicia Spinnet stood up with the paper shaking violently in her hands. "Angelina?" she called out, though the black girl was reclining only a few feet away. "Angelina?" she called out again, her voice shrill in desperation.  
  
Angelina jumped up and took the paper from Spinnet. She spun away the read the article. Wood's face was now grimacing at them and shaking pumpkin juice out of his hair. Angelina's face grew as pale as it could get as she read the article.  
  
When she was done, she dropped the paper to the floor. It landed with a papery thud. "Oh my god," Angelina whispered, sinking into a chair.  
  
Snow fell all around him. It was cold, very cold, and it made him wish like he had brought a jumper with him, or better yet, was back in England. Nice, safe, warm England, with trees, and an actual moon...anywhere but this frozen wasteland. Anywhere would be nicer than here. Merlin, he would rather be back in the dungeons, doing detentions for Snape than be here. Now he knew that things were bad. When one wished for the kindness and charity of Severus Snape, things had to be pretty darn BAD.  
  
There was one thing that he had found out through all of this. Blood really did bounce on snow. Fred had told him that one time, and had actually demonstrated it with one of the nutty sweets that he and his brother were coming up with. But he had never believed it himself until a few days ago.  
  
"Well now, things are not looking good for Mr. Wood," a cold, cruel voice mocked it. Oliver rolled his eyes, hissing at the sharp pain that went through him when he did so. "What say you Wood? Ready to tell me what you know?"  
  
Oh stuff it, Oliver thought to himself. He said it too.  
  
"Oh stuff it," he heard his hoarse, pain filled voice say. He thought about the expression that had to have been on Voldemort's face, and he would have laughed, but a discovery he had made the other day stopped him.  
  
He had said something very rude, and something that his mother had never dreamed her baby boy would say, to Voldemort. He had actually caught a glimpse of what the most feared wizard in the world face looked like, and it was pretty damn funny too. He had burst out laughing, not exactly knowing why, and had made the discovery that when he laughed, blood came out of his mouth. When he coughed, blood came out of his mouth. Matter of fact, when he did anything much besides breath blood came out of his mouth. And sometimes it came out of his mouth when he was breathing too.  
  
All in all, it was a miserable way to go out of the world.  
  
Maybe I need a hug, he thought to himself. He felt like smacking himself if he could raise his hand. How can you think all this stuff? You're going to die, and you want a hug? You moron! You imbecile! Stupid, stupid, stupid Wood!  
  
But the look on Lord Voldemort's face had been so funny...  
  
"Well Mr. Wood, my lessons do not seem to have kicked in enough," Voldemort said, his voice shaking with rage—How dare this stupid, young wizard taunt him? He brought out his wand and leveled it at Oliver.  
  
Oliver smiled the smile that had won him the Witch Weekly's honor of being chosen one of the sexiest men alive. Actually, he hoped he was smiling, he couldn't really tell what his face was doing. For all he knew he might have been frowning, or giving Voldemort a look that he would have given one of the more hotter girl's at Hogwarts during his student days.  
  
Oh ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww............  
  
All thoughts of that nature were driven out of his mind by the incantation that was spoken by the voice cold enough to freeze Hell.  
  
"CRUICIO!" For at least the fifth time that hour, Oliver Wood was seized by a thousand white hot knives cutting into his body. His legs were kicking wildly in the air, he was screaming with what voice he had left and his arms were wrapped tightly around his waist.  
  
His mind's former levity was gone, and he was left with a desperate plea of survival. Please, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop...I swear I'll do anything, just make it stop....  
  
The pain didn't stop until Oliver was unconscious, and even then, Voldemort didn't lift his wand from the body. 


	2. Chapter Two: Arrivals

A/N: Well, I'm back again. I just saw the new trailer for Prisoner of Azkaban. It was pretty good, but can someone tell me if that's Ron roaring at the very end? Just after the dog/werewolf roars? It was odd. But anyway, back to writing again. Hopefully my code wasn't too out there, and Harry didn't look too stupid. I tried to make him pretty darn smart, but kind of like he is in the books.  
  
And by the way, if you have not read the story Cor Ne Edito, read it. It is so awesome!  
  
Since I've noticed that ff.net eats my italics, all things in italics will now have around them.  
  
Disclaimer: All I own is my laptop. Wait a second....I don't even own that. Ouch.  
  
Harry restlessly paced around his room. It was the afternoon after he had sent the reply to Hermione, and no one had come yet. He wondered how the Order would be coming. Portkey? Brooms? Floo Powder? Since the Ministry had finally come to their senses and realized that Voldemort was actually out and about, the networks were no longer being watched. Overcome with boredom, Harry listened to Uncle Vernon downstairs as he was rumbling to Aunt Petunia.  
  
"I don't suppose you heard Petunia?" he asked her. There was a silence, and Harry supposed that she had made some answer, because Uncle Vernon continued. "HIS kind have offered to take him. About time I say. Bloody owls flying through here all the time, Dudley being attacked, I've had enough. If it were up to me, then he wouldn't even be here," Uncle Vernon said with a definite edge to his voice.  
  
"But it's not up to you dear," Aunt Petunia said. Harry sighed. They had been having this argument ever since the Howler came for Aunt Petunia. It was quite odd to see them divided when they were usually so united in their hatred of Harry. In a way, it was gratifying to see them angry at someone else besides him for a change. The twins were right. When they were yelling at someone else instead of him, it was really quite refreshing.  
  
Harry glanced out of his window to look at the sky again. Hermione had said that someone would be coming for him on brooms, so why didn't he see any brooms in the air? He listened again to Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's conversation.  
  
"Petunia, what was that letter about?" Vernon asked curiously. Harry heard a loud sniff and a rumble of irritation from his uncle. "I just thought that you might want to tell me," Uncle Vernon said. "If we're going to harbor one of THOSE people in our house, I'd like to know evethi- ARGH!"  
  
His uncle's sentence tailed off in a roar of surprise, fright, and irritation. Desperate for something interesting, Harry risked the punishment and went downstairs. When he made it into the sitting room, he choked in laughter.  
  
Fred and George Weasley were sitting calmly on the couch as if they didn't have a care in the world, while Tonks was walking around the room, examining the TV, VCR and DVD player. George turned as he saw Harry come into the room.  
  
"Hello Harry," he said, as if it was perfectly normal to have two old school friends suddenly pop into existence in front of your Muggle Uncle and Aunt. Harry's face was turning red with the effort of keeping his laughs in. It was obvious to him that Fred, George and Tonks had Apparated into Harry's sitting room, but it was not so with the other occupants of the house. Aunt Petunia for one was looking suspiciously at her sofa as if it had always concealed two eighteen year old red haired boys and had just chosen this particular moment to reveal them.  
  
Tonks hair was around her waist, and a long deep black. Aunt Petunia kept on looking at her like she had seen Tonks before, but just couldn't place her. It was amazing the things that Muggles missed. Tonks turned around and smiled when she saw Harry.  
  
"Wotcher Harry!" she greeted. "Got your things?" she swept by Harry, pointedly ignoring the bustling Uncle Vernon, who was standing straight up. Fred was a bit more polite. He held up a hat that he had just brought out of his back pocket, and tipped it slightly to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.  
  
Aunt Petunia relaxed, until Fred put the hat on. For a second his grinning face was visible under a hat with a ridiculously large blue feather, and then both hat and head disappeared. Aunt Petunia screamed, and fainted dead away. Uncle Vernon missed catching her, and she crashed into the coffee table.  
  
Fred and George came into Harry's room just after Harry. Fred had removed the hat. It was fortunate he did so, for Tonks looked at him suspiciously. "I'm not saying that they don't deserve to be mocked, but it was a pretty cruel thing to do," she said severly. "Harry's got to come back here next year."  
  
"Do I?" Harry asked. He felt better about returning to the Dursley's house now that there was a reason for him to be there, but it was still miserable. He had no problem with Muggles in general, just with these Muggles. "I honestly don't mind if they get so angry they want to chuck me out of the house."  
  
"Harry, Harry, Harry," George said, adopting a look that Harry thought looked close to the mothering look that Mrs. Weasley always gave him. "Dumbledore has his reasons, and you just must follow them. Shame on you." Fred nodded at his twins side like George was giving a gospel ceremony.  
  
"Anyway, I've got my broom already," Harry said, but Tonks cut him off.  
  
"We're not taking brooms," she said brusquely. "We're taking the Knight Bus instead." Harry, Fred, and George all groaned.  
  
"You're too much trouble Harry," George said as he heaved Harry's trunk down the stairs. Fred grunted in agreement.  
  
"I reckon we should spend our time elsewhere rather than saving your sorry arse all the time," Fred agreed as he picked up one end of the trunk. Harry peeked into the sitting room as he left. Aunt Petunia had revived consciousness, and she was glaring at Harry.  
  
Tonks walked into the room. "Really sorry about that," she said as she knocked over one of their lamps. It crashed to the floor, sending shards everywhere. "Anyway, suppose that we'll be saying goodbye." Uncle Vernon glared at her, but didn't dare to make a move. "And just so you'll let Harry stay here next year....OBLIVIATE!"  
  
Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's faces went oddly slack. Uncle Vernon nodded vaguely. "Get out of here boy," he said softly to Harry as he nodded at him.  
  
"You wasted our tricks," George said resentfully to Tonks. "And just when we had perfected the Invisibility Hats," he added wistfully.  
  
"Joke shop coming on all right?" Harry asked. Fred nodded, and launched into a talk of how well they had been doing while Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage made their way down the driveway.  
  
George stuck out his right hand and with an enormous BANG; the Knight Bus appeared in front of them. Harry stumbled back a few steps and tripped over his trunk. Fred sniggered, and hoisted Harry to his feet.  
  
"'Ello 'Arry!" the pimply conductor, Stan Shunpike cried out in absolute joy as Harry climbed onto the bus.  
  
In her room, Angelina Johnson restlessly paced. She was stuck for a decision about what to do. She hated being stuck. She liked control. Alicia sat on the bed, nervously jiggling her foot. Nothing had happened since that afternoon. They'd worried a little bit, Angelina had actually screamed when her over-active imagination had imagined Wood being slammed with the Cruciatious Curse. Moody or the madman pretending to be Moody had showed them what the curse could do in her sixth year. She winced as she imagined Oliver Wood rocking back and forth like the spider did, his mouth opened in a soundless scream. But his scream wouldn't be soundless. His scream would be hoarse, deep, pain-filled, the Scottish brogue being ripped out of his soul.  
  
Angelina began to cry as she imagined that. Alicia got up off of the bed and began to retrace Angelina's route as Angelina took Alicia's spot on the bed. It just hurt so much to imagine that Oliver Wood was somewhere in North Russia and no one knew where he was, or how he got there, or even if he was alive! And then, to think back on the pictures that the-person- pretending-to-be-Moody had shown them when they were studying curses. They were pictures of what the Cruciatious Curse could do, and putting Oliver's face in that picture was all too easy....she gave a dry sob and buried her face in her hands.  
  
She gave a small shriek as she heard an almighty crunching noise. When it appeared that nothing else was happening, she hesitantly got up from her bed, wiping tears away from her face. She turned a corner in her room, and was confronted with the image of Alicia with half of her arm inside the wall.  
  
"Well," Alicia said, grimacing in pain, "a little tension, anger, and now...I appear to be stuck." Her worry for Oliver now forgotten in her worry for Alicia, Angelina walked over and examined Alicia's forearm in interest.  
  
Alicia craned her head as she heard a galumphing up the stairs. Katie Bell stuck her sandy brown head through the door. "Oh my god!" were her first words, looking at the scene in front of her. It had to look odd, Alicia with half her arm inside the wall. "What happened?"  
  
"Alicia decided that she blamed the wall," Angelina said tartly. Alicia made a rude face at Angelina. "So you got our letter?" Angelina asked Katie, quickly changing the topic.  
  
"Yeah, Circe came in just as we got back from Germany; it was great," Katie said, flashing one of her trademark smiles at Angelina. "Why'd you name her that anyway?" she asked, gesturing to Angelina's barn owl that was perched on top of her school books.  
  
"Seemed right," Angelina said, as Circe proceeded to tear a page out of her old Defense Against the Dark Arts book. Alicia shrugged, and then looked purposefully at Angelina.  
  
"Who did the walling in this house anyway?" Katie asked with interest as she looked at Alicia trying to move her hand. Angelina tried to help turn Alicia's wrist, but gave it up as a lost cause. The hand was stuck very tightly inside the wall. Evidently all the muscle exercises that Wood kept on making them do had paid off.  
  
"I don't know, crappy Muggle house," Angelina said. "I can always hear the pipes running. All right, clench your fist," she told Alicia. "Now unclench, and PULL!" Both Angelina and Alicia pulled with all of their might, and Alicia's hand came free. All three girls fell on the ground. Katie was the first to get up, shaking some sawdust out of her eyes.  
  
"Ewww," Katie said, grimacing at Alicia's hand. A nail had scraped it, and blood was pouring down her hand. "All right, Angelina, I passed your mum as I was going up the stairs, so I suppose that I'd better go get her," she said as she got to her feet.  
  
"Don't bother," Angelina said, bringing out her wand. She muttered a spell, and the blood disappeared from Alicia's hand. Angelina said something else, and fresh clean linens came out on Alicia's hand. "You forget that we're of age, and out of school. We can do magic whenever we want."  
  
"I hate you," Katie said. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to have your older brother coming home, floating around the house, and doing magic in front of you? He knows perfectly well that I'm not allowed to do magic at home for another year, but he persists in doing magic in front of me. And he purposefully leaves my things on the other side of the room, because he knows that I'll have to get up and get them, instead of just doing a Summoning Charm like a person who could do magic over the summer!"  
  
Katie finally took a breath. Angelina saw this as her moment to jump in and ask some questions. "Alicia, why'd you hit the wall?" she asked, looking at the large hole in her wall. "It seems like that would be something that I would do."  
  
"I felt like it," Alicia said, shrugging her shoulders. "Are you hungry?" she asked Katie.  
  
"I thought you'd never ask," Katie said, nodding her head and rubbing her stomach. "I'm famished. We left this afternoon, and I hadn't had a chance to eat lunch because I forgot to pack half of my things. And then Circe got in, and you asked me to come over, so I had to talk to my parents about letting me go to your house, which took some time, and then they had to find the Floo power, which got misplaced-"  
  
Angelina, knowing well how long Katie's rants could go on, stopped her. "Hey, let's just go downstairs and get something to eat," she said. Alicia rose, and put her arm around Katie.  
  
"Why'd you want me here anyway?" Katie asked, ignoring a large rumble from Alicia's stomach. "Not that I'm not happy to see you two, but you knew that we were going on holiday to Germany for two weeks. I told you that my parents wanted me to 'spend more time at home'," she said in a singsong voice. "Believe me, it was a time trying to get them to let me go, especially after all this business with You-Know-Who..." her voice trailed off as she looked inside the kitchen.  
  
Angelina's mother was sitting by the table, talking to another wizard. His back was turned to the three girls, but Angelina knew immediately who he was. There was no mistaking that long, silver, hair. "Professor Dumbledore?" Alicia asked in disbelief, her mouth hanging open.  
  
Dumbledore turned around to face the flabbergasted girls. "Yes, Ms. Spinnet," he said kindly. "Ms. Bell, already here? Good, good. And Ms. Johnson, it is always a pleasure." Angelina felt that something was going on here that she couldn't see.  
  
Katie said it first. "Professor Dumbledore, not that we're not happy to see you, but why are you here?" she asked faintly. Dumbledore nodded, like he had been expecting this question.  
  
"Ah, I beg your company for a short time," he said to them. "If you will do me the great honor of joining me to a small meeting, I would be most gracious. The owls have already been sent, your parents will be receiving them shortly."  
  
"Go where?" Alicia asked suspiciously. "What's all this about?"  
  
"Mum?" Angelina appealed to her mother. "What's going on?" Her mother just shook her head, and blinked a few tears out of her eyes. "Mum?" Angelina asked again, her voice breaking. "What's happening? Why's Dumbledore here?"  
  
"I believe you already know the answer to that," Dumbledore said. "But I suspected no more than this confusion. I shall explain everything now. Mrs. Johnson, if you will excuse us?" Angelina's mother nodded numbly as Dumbledore led the girls into the dining room and shut the door. Angelina was now painfully aware that the house had not been properly cleaned in over a year, and that dust bunnies were populating the rarely used dining room.  
  
"What's all this about?" Alicia asked in her soft voice. "Is it Wood?" Katie looked back and forth from Dumbledore, to Angelina, to Alicia. Dumbledore nodded gravely and sat down at the head of the table.  
  
"I believe you already know what has happened to your friend," he said to Angelina and Alicia. "Ms. Bell, does not know, and will therefore have to be told." He paused for a moment before looking at them all with his light blue eyes. For once, they were not twinkling. "Mr. Wood has been captured by Voldemort."  
  
"What?" Katie asked, shuddering despite herself at the name. "You- Know-Who's....got Oliver? That's absurd!" she said, trying to deny it. "Angelina...Alicia?" she looked at the other two Chasers, as if they would agree with her that Dumbledore had finally gone off his rocker. Instead they refused to meet her gaze, looking down at the ground dejectedly.  
  
"No, he does have young Mr. Wood," Dumbledore said calmly. "That was the reason that your friends summoned you here on such short notice. An owl happened to intercept me as I was traveling here, carrying an urgent message from Ms. Johnson. It demanded to know what was happening with Oliver, and where he was, and why I wasn't doing anything to help him," he said, quoting Angelina's hastily written letter word for word.  
  
"Sorry," Angelina muttered. "I didn't think that it would get to you that fast," she said. "Do you know where he is?" Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Then why are you sitting here?" she asked, her voice rising into a hysterical pitch. "Why AREN'T you going to look for him?"  
  
"Please calm down Ms. Johnson," Dumbledore said calmly. "We are trying to find him. When Voldemort," there were shudders from all the witches, "kidnaps someone, he takes steps to make sure that they are not easily found. I spoke earlier of a meeting. I shall now tell you what group is meeting."  
  
"When Voldemort was first in power, there was a small group of witches and wizards, the smartest wizards in their day, which stood against him. This group suffered its losses, but one of its tiniest members managed to finally defeat the Dark Lord," Dumbledore said. "This was called the Order of the Phoenix. I myself belong to it, and that is one of my greater honors, and between the three of us, that is saying something." He winked coyly at them, and Alicia gave a small, dry chuckle.  
  
"So, you want us to come to this Order meeting so we can help find Oliver?" Angelina asked. Dumbledore nodded. "Once we find him, can we go get him?"  
  
"That requires joining the Order, and I doubt that either you or your parents are ready to let you do that," Dumbledore said firmly. Angelina made a noise of disbelief.  
  
"We're of age!" she said angrily. "We're out of school, we're legally adults, and I'm almost nineteen! Why can't I go find Oliver if I want to?"  
  
"Ms. Johnson, you think too quickly and too rashly," Dumbledore said, keeping the same, sane tone, but Angelina could tell that she was being scolded. "Please, just come to the Order meeting," he said. "Your knowledge of Quidditch and Mr. Wood may prove invaluable."  
  
"Excuse me, Professor Dumbledore?" Alicia said, speaking up for the first time. Katie and Angelina turned to look at her in disbelief. "It seems to me like you want to protect us, but I don't see how we can help just by giving you information about Oliver. I'm sure that there's some spell which says that loved ones can help find the person in trouble, but if you needed us for that, then you could just do the spell here. You wouldn't need us to go to the meeting. So it seems to me like you somehow want us to join this Order and look for Oliver.  
  
"We were put in Gryffindor for a reason. Maybe this is it," Alicia said evenly, never wavering as Dumbledore looked at her light blue eyes. Angelina and Katie both looked at Alicia in astonishment. Dumbledore smiled that maddening smile, as if the things that she had just said were not only unsurprising, they were expected.  
  
"Well Ms. Spinnet, it is obvious that you were the highest witch in your year," Dumbledore said. "That was spoken with the bravery of a Gryffindor, the slyness of a Slytherin, the intelligence of a Ravenclaw, and the honesty of a Hufflepuff." Alicia coloured a little at the compliment, but didn't say anything.  
  
Angelina sat back in her chair astonished. She would have given anything to be able to speak like that. Angelina was always the tomboy of the Chasers, the one who was considered to be one of the guys. Katie was the loveable ditz, the one who knew the exact amount of seriousness and silliness to make everyone comfortable and content. Alicia was the quiet, serious one. She was a beautiful listener, but not a wonderful person to go play practical jokes with.  
  
Dumbledore stood up. "I promise you, if you have any remaining questions after this encounter, they will all be answered at the meeting," he said. Alicia was the first to rise, her eyes still locked on their former Headmaster. "Come." It was not a command, it was a polite request.  
  
They left the dining room to go back into the kitchen. Angelina's mother was still sitting at the table, her face buried in her handkerchief. Angelina went to her, and embraced her around the shoulders. "Mum, I have to go, but I swear I'll be right back," she said, trying to soothe her mother.  
  
"I know," her mother choked out. "I know. Just be careful Angie. And...make me and your father proud," she sobbed. Angelina hugged her mother tightly, and was soon joined by Alicia and Katie. The three Chasers had spent all of their summer holidays at Angelina's house, and Angelina's mother had taken them all in like second and third daughters.  
  
"Bye Mrs. Johnson," Katie said, her eyes puffy and red, and her permanently laughing expression gone for once.  
  
"See you soon Mrs. Johnson," Alicia said, her eyes over-bright and sparkling with unshed tears. Dumbledore picked up an ordinary cutting board.  
  
"Portus," he mumbled. The cutting board turned blue for a moment, and then regained its normal hue. He motioned the three girls to touch it.  
  
"Um...Professor?" Katie asked hesitantly, her arm raised in the air just as if she were in class. "Isn't that supposed to be illegal? We learned it first year in Hogwarts," she explained when he turned his blue eyes on her.  
  
"Yes, yes," he said idly, waving his hand in the air. "Well Ms. Bell, desperate moments call for desperate measures. Please touch the Portkey, we don't have much time."  
  
Angelina put a shaking brown hand on the cutting board. Nothing happened for a minute, then she felt a tugging behind her navel, and she was gone.  
  
"So what's wrong with Wood?" Harry asked George later that night. It was very late, and all the other witches and wizards had fallen asleep. Harry and George were the only ones in the entire floor that were left completely awake. Tonks was dozing, her head against the window, and Fred's soft snores could be distinguished from all the other noises of sleeping wizards and witches.  
  
"Hmm?" George asked, looking up with the end of a quill in his mouth. "Sorry Harry," he apologized swiftly, noticing the look on Harry's face. "Just checking some of the figures," he motioned to the parchment, which had a lot of numbers and diagrams scribbled on it, "and I didn't hear your dulcet tones ringing. What'd you want?"  
  
"I was just asking what's wrong with Wood," Harry said impatiently. Grateful as he was to be away from Privet Drive and the Dursleys, if he was going to be contacted by the Order of the Phoenix, he wanted to have a good idea why. "Hermione's letter didn't say anything, and you three haven't told me anything either."  
  
"We haven't told you anything because we don't know ourselves," George said. "Now that Fred and I are in the Order, we get to listen to the meetings, but that's about it. Mum still doesn't trust us when we're doing anything dangerous. She's afraid that we'll blow one of the other members of the Order up. This is our first real mission for the Order. Thank your lucky stars that Mad-Eye had somewhere else to be tonight and that he wasn't here to pick you up. You'd be freezing your buttocks off somewhere around Jupiter, he'd have you flying so far out of attacking range."  
  
"Yeah, thanks for that," Harry said. For a summer night, tonight was unusually cold and windy. The Knight Bus, loud, erratic, and as uncomfortable as it was, was much better than riding a broom around in the murk. He could never quite forget the long broom ride that Moody had made him take last year when the Order picked him up.  
  
"We know as much as you do right now," George said seriously. "Dear old Oliver's got himself in a bit of a scrape, and Dumbledore wants the Order to get him out of it. Apparently he was in the Order, though I can't imagine why....I didn't even know that Wood could DO magic, let alone do it well. As far as I knew, he was only at Hogwarts so he could play Quidditch, and get a better chance at playing professionally."  
  
"How was his career?" Harry asked, his insides cringing. "I...don't follow the papers much anymore," he explained to George's look.  
  
"With all the rubbish they've printed about you, I wouldn't either," the red-haired twin said easily. "Apparently it was going rather well. Angelina was so scary last year when she was Captain, we decided that we would write Puddlemere United to make sure that Wood hadn't been killed in a Bludger accident and had possessed Angelina. Just the sort of thing he would do too," George mused thoughtfully. "But anyway, he said that he had been taken off the reserve list, and that he was the main Keeper. Course, with the Tornadoes winning the league, that wasn't too good, but other than that, he's had a good time."  
  
"Hope he's all right," Harry said softly. George nodded, and made a noise of agreement. Harry went back to thinking about Lord Voldemort and Wood, while George went back to the records and inventory.  
  
"Wood, wake up," a churlish voice called his name. "Wood, you bloody bastard, wake up." Oliver groaned, and slid open one eye. The leering face of Marcus Flint looked at him, buck teeth and all. Oliver groaned and closed his eyes tightly.  
  
Isn't it enough that he made my life in school living hell for me? Does he have to come here and torture me too? Aw, this sucks.  
  
A toe nudged his solar plexus and Wood cried out softly in pain. Oh balls. "Wood, you pansy, get up off this floor and face me like a man!" Flint yelled. Wood groaned, and rolled slowly onto his back.  
  
Marcus Flint hadn't changed at all since he left Hogwarts, save that he was meaner and bigger. And he might have a better grasp of magic than he did at school. Lord Voldemort's followers often had a very good grasp of the minor curses at least. And Flint had always had a great sense of brutality.  
  
"Look what the dog drug in," Flint chortled to his two cohorts. "The Master told us what you had done to him," Flint continued, explaining why he was here. "Obviously, a, and I laughingly use the phrase wizard, in your position should not be tempting the forces of the greatest wizard in the world!"  
  
"You're wrong," Wood choked out, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. "Voldemort isn't the greatest wizard in the world. Albus...Dumbledore...is the greatest sorcerer in the world. Sorry to mess up your day."  
  
"You'll pay for that one Wood!" Flint hissed through his teeth. For a second Oliver thought that he was about to be hit with the Cruciatious Curse again, and he tensed in preparation. But this was not the case. Instead, Flint motioned to the people behind him, who brought out a small trunk that was shaking in their grasp. Feeling that thinking was probably not the best thing for him right now, Wood rolled on his back, and coughed out a little bit of blood.  
  
"I think you know what this is, don't you Wood?" Flint asked. Oliver turned his head over to see a small, jet-black ball clutched in Marcus's hand. It was straining towards him, and Oliver fancied that if the ball could have screamed in frustration, it would have. "Rogue Bludger," Flint explained, in case Wood was denser than everyone thought. "Not a nice thing to have. Especially," he gave Oliver a smile of pure evil, "if you're the one that the Bludger's after."  
  
He released the Bludger.  
  
Oliver screamed in pain as the Bludger hit his ribs, cracking at least two. He rolled over into a fetal position, trying to protect as much of his body as he could. The Bludger was not deterred, and began attacking his head and legs. Within seconds, Oliver had a large cut on his forehead, and he could have sworn that he had a broken kneecap.  
  
"What's wrong Wood?" Flint sneered at him. "Is this too hard for you? And I thought you were actually a tough one."  
  
The words hit Oliver like a sledgehammer. He waited for a minute, listening to the Bludger whirr around his head, looking for a piece of unscathed flesh that it could attack. He felt incredibly cold, and angry, but a strange thing was happening. All the emotion was leaving him...he just wanted one thing now.  
  
Flint.  
  
Oliver bit his lip as he concentrated entirely on the Bludger. He would get one chance, and he had to make sure that it worked. His breaths became smooth and regular as he focused on the sound of the small ball whizzing around his head. Come here, come here, come on....  
  
The Bludger decided that it had found an acceptable target, and dove down at him. Wood wasn't worried; this was no more than hitting a Quaffle at a Quidditch match against a particularly nasty opponent. His leg muscles tightened in preparation. The Bludger dove at his legs, and Wood acted.  
  
His legs shot out and nailed the Bludger firmly, spinning it back where it came from. Flint was turning around when the Bludger came flying straight back at him. The Bludger hit him square on the nose, sending blood flying everywhere. Flint cursed loudly and hit the ground. The two people with him picked him up and set him on his feet.  
  
"Finite Incanatem," someone said, and the Bludger exploded, sending bright sparks all over the dark room. Wood was lying on his side laughing. It didn't matter what happened to him now, he didn't care how much blood came out of his mouth...it was worth it just to see the look on Flint's face. Flint came over to Oliver, his hands linked over a nose that was obviously broken.  
  
"You just wait Wood, you've done it now," he threatened to the hysterically laughing Oliver. Flint waited for a moment, staring at Wood, who was alternately laughing and choking on his own blood.  
  
Part of Oliver was wondering why this was so funny, and then he realized that it didn't matter. He was going to die; it didn't matter whether or not he told Voldemort and the Death Eaters everything or nothing. He was still going to die. And Oliver had always been rather stubborn when it came to people forcing him what to do. So, he was going to fight for as long as he possibly could.  
  
"Why are you laughing?" Flint asked his eyes wide and astonished. Oliver stopped laughing for a moment, and looked seriously at them.  
  
"With any luck I will either annoy you to death, or cause permanent ear damage and make you deaf," he said matter-of-factly. And that set him off laughing again. Maybe I'm delirious. That would explain a great deal.  
  
"Wood, you're mad," Flint said, walking slowly away, as if Oliver was a dangerous animal that would attack him. "Completely mad."  
  
"At least I'm not a Death Eater," Oliver said, suddenly serious and full of purpose. Flint stormed out of the door, and slammed it behind him. It could be that his ears were deceiving him, but Oliver could swear that he didn't hear the familiar click of the lock falling into place.  
  
He wished that he could laugh, and he tried to, but all that came out was a small shuddering sigh. Feeling a burning in his chest that had nothing to do with curses and Bludgers, Oliver blinked his eyes, trying to get the moisture out of them. He had been raised with the firm adage that boys did not cry. That only girls cried, and it was a boy's solemn duty to stop them crying and be cheerful again. Everyone was just so much happier when they were cheerful.  
  
"Stop that you foolish boy," said a voice in the room. Oliver started, and looked around at the room. At first he could see nothing, but soon a human-sized figure separated itself from the wall.  
  
"Wha..?" Oliver tried to speak, but his throat had gone suddenly dry. That voice was very familiar...if only he could place it...  
  
"You must not do anything to annoy the Dark Lord," they said urgently. "It is both of our necks at risk here, so I shall tell you again in case your intellect is such that you didn't understand me the first time. You must NOT annoy the Dark Lord."  
  
He walked over to Oliver. The Keeper flinched and turned his head, expecting an attack. He was surprised when the person grabbed his hand instead, wrenching it open. He cried out in pain as sore fingers were pulled and prodded. Something soft was put in his fingers.  
  
The door opened, sending a moonbeam in the door, and then closed. Oliver heard the click of a lock, about fifty times magnified now.  
  
He looked down at his hand. Clenched tightly in his bleeding fingers was a single, scarlet, phoenix feather.  
  
Please review. 


	3. Chapter Three: Dreams

A/N: Yes, I'm back. It's taken a while, and I have officially decided that God either A: hates me, or B: just thinks that I'm a whole lot tougher than what I really am. I thought after testing was over at our school that things might get a little bit easier, but NO. My teachers are conspiring to make sure I don't know the meaning of free time until sometime in 2006. Add that to the fact that this poor little kid that I faintly knew died in a freak accident on our school's track, and it makes for a depressing weekend. I spent almost ten minutes in my backyard crying and shouting alternately, which has my neighbors firmly convinced that I'm a loony, but it made me feel better. Three cheers to living!  
  
Sorry for everyone who just read that, I was venting some frustration and some grief. Writing and gardening are my zens. They're what keeps me going throughout the day.  
  
And in continuing with my incredibly long author's notes, I have done some research into the sunless day, and it actually would be sunny in northern Russia since it's summer in England, but for purposes of plot and title, there is no sun where Oliver is.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned it, I would be rich, and I sure ain't.  
  
Percy Ignatius Weasley Apparated in front of his apartment door, and wearily opened it and slid inside. He closed, and locked the door whilst taking off his cap and running his fingers through his hair. His hair had always gone completely mad whenever he wore a cap, or when he first got up. George always used to say—  
  
Percy stopped. Thinking about his family wasn't going to do him any good. It was better not to start. He waved his wand, and several candles flickered on, giving a nice light to the cozy apartment. He jabbed his wand at the fireplace, and a roaring fire was soon there. Even though he could have just kept the humid heat of the summer, having a fire in his fireplace always made him feel good. It made him feel snug, comfortable, and as cliché as it might sound, it gave him a warm fuzzy feeling.  
  
He flopped down in his chair and tried to burrow himself in the chair as far as he could go. Even though it was nearly eighty degrees outside, he felt suddenly very cold. Maybe it was the difference of coming home to an empty flat instead of a house full of family.  
  
Suddenly feeling very sorry for himself, Percy rummaged in a box beside his favorite armchair and pulled out an ancient sweater. He blew off the dust of the sweater and held it up to look at it.  
  
He knew that his mother made Weasley sweaters for friends of the family, and for the family itself. Ron's was always maroon, Ginny's a light pink, the twin's a deep blue, Charlie's forest green, Bill's a deep purple, and Percy's always ended up being a sort of funny orange colour. "It's probably the only way she could tell who the sweaters went to," he muttered to himself. "She had to colour-code us so she knew which son we were." The thought made him smile, and he threw on the sweater, despite the fact that the sweater was at least three sizes too small.  
  
Putting on the woolen sweater instantly gave him a sense of nostalgia, and a desperate homesickness. He put his arms tight around his waist and hugged himself. For the present moment, he didn't even think of how the entire scene looked to an impartial observer. The great, wonderful, intelligent Percy Weasley sitting on his couch and hugging himself like a little kid. He stuck his lip out and rummaged through the box again.  
  
He finally found what he was looking for: an old, ratty, red, leather- bound book. He blew dust off the cover, and opened the cover, listening to the leather creak and grind. The first photo that he saw was the photo of when the entire Weasley family had visited Bill in Egypt. Even Charlie had managed to get some time off to visit his elder brother.  
  
Speaking of Charlie and Bill, there were the second from the left. The Weasley family had lined up in order of age, with his parents at the far left, then Bill, Charlie, himself, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. Percy noticed with a pang that his photographic self was missing from the picture. Bill and Charlie were not waving happily at him. Instead they were whispering to each other, and Percy noticed that Bill in particular kept on sending dark glances to Percy.  
  
With another guilty pang, Percy looked at his parents. His father wore a carefully neutral expression with his arm around Percy's mother. Mrs. Weasley was looking straight at Percy, her eyes red-rimmed. "Mum," Percy whispered to the picture, and then bit his lip. Even though pictures could look back at the people who were looking at them, they could not talk. Photographs could not give him the comfort that he was so desperately searching for.  
  
With a small sense of trepidation, Percy looked at the twins. Even though he had loved his brothers dearly, all through school they had made plaguing him their main purpose in life. Percy and the twins were as unalike as it was possible to be. Fred and George enjoyed flaunting authority, especially his. For example, they were amusing themselves by sticking their tongues out at Percy, and making very rude finger signs that Mrs. Weasley would not approve of if she saw them.  
  
Ron was glaring at Percy through his red bangs. Occasionally he would blink, but nothing other than that broke his sullen stare. Ginny was standing right beside him, and Ron put his arm around her. Percy feared that Ginny was taking what could commonly be known as the "Fred and George route" in life, and enjoying spectacular audacity and a disregard for rules. Her lip curled when she looked at him, and she slowly slid her hand out of her pocket. Making sure that Percy could see her every move, Ginny slowly raised her hand and flicked him off.  
  
Now feeling utterly forlorn and forsaken by his family, Percy turned the heavy parchment page. The next page was taken by a picture of his former girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater. "Penelope," he whispered, tracing the empty photograph with his fingers. He angrily closed the book and threw it down on the floor.  
  
Face it mate, you screwed up, a sly voice said. Percy was about to tell his mind to shut up when he realized that this was not his mind talking to him. This voice was more lilting than his own, with a thick Scottish burr to it. It was the same voice that had uttered that same phrase when Penelope and Percy had had a little spat in Percy's sixth year.  
  
"Shut up Oliver!" he said angrily. It was bad enough that his own voice talked to him and told him of all the times he had screwed up, but did Oliver Wood have to burst in and add his two Knuts worth as well? It was annoying, and Percy wasn't going to stand for it anymore. "Get out of my head Wood!"  
  
"First sign of madness dear, talking to old school friends who aren't even there," his mirror wheezed cheerfully at him. "Not to mention telling them to get out of your head."  
  
"It's not like that," Percy said. "If you knew him, he's the most annoying thing in the entire world. I thought that I was going to be rid of him when I left school, and now he's here and he's talking to me in my head!"  
  
"If you say so dear," his mirror told him dreamily. "Now, be a doll, and don't talk for a few more minutes. I have to go get some beauty sleep."  
  
"You're a mirror!" Percy yelled to the mirror over the fireplace. "You don't need sleep! You're a bloody mirror for Merlin's sake!"  
  
His mirror made no response.  
  
Percy sighed, and then jumped as his doorbell rang. He rushed to answer it, only to find that it was the boy who brought him the Evening Prophet. "Here you go Mr. Weasley," the cheerful young man chirped. Percy muttered his thanks, and took his newspaper. The boy waited for a few seconds, and Percy remembered that he was expecting a tip. He gave him several Knuts, and sent him on his way.  
  
Percy closed the door and opened up the paper. He flipped through the usual nonsense of people seeing You-Know-Who on their doorstep, and walking down the street, and claiming that they had fought the Imperius Curse put on by You-Know-Who's Death Eaters. Only the sports section was worth reading, and even that was going downhill. None of England's teams were doing well. The Chudley Cannons were now last in the league. Ron must be devastated.  
  
"Blah, blah, blah, sports, blah, blah, blah, You-Know-Who, blah, blah, blah," Percy muttered. He threw the newspaper onto the chair and poured himself a nice glass of water. You'd think that being the Minister of Magic's Junior Assistant would be less lonely. You'd especially think that it would entitle you to be a bit more popular. Or at least respected. But Fudge and the entire Ministry were coming under fire for ignoring Harry Potter and Dumbledore. It was depressing.  
  
Percy glanced at the paper again. He went to pick it up, but Hermes fluttered through the open window, bringing in a strong breeze. The wind tossed the pages around and scattered them all over the place. Some of the pages landed in the fire, where they soon began to crinkle with the heat. Percy stalked around his apartment, throwing dark glances at Hermes, who was perched gracefully on his perch in the kitchen. "Stupid owl," Percy growled at Hermes, who fluffed his feathers and gave an innocent "Hoot?"  
  
Percy glanced down at the paper that he was holding. Something about Puddlemere United. He put it on the counter, and then stopped. Puddlemere United? Wasn't that the team that Oliver Wood played for? Not that he cared or anything, but it would be nice for old time's sake to see what was happening with him. Percy picked up the paper, and read the entire article.  
  
Puddlemere United Begins Search for Keeper  
  
In a news brief today, Puddlemere United announced that they were finally beginning the search for their immensely popular Keeper, Oliver Wood. Last seen in a game with Bulgaria, Wood has not answered any owls, and Locators have been unable to find him. Rumors that he was kidnapped by You-Know-Who, and his followers, also known as Death Eaters, have so far been unfounded,  
but not squashed.  
"Really, there's no reason that Lord...well you know what I'm talking  
about, would want him," a spokesman for Puddlemere said. "We are merely concerned about his safety and well-being, and wish for his safe and speedy  
return." Despite these statements, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt has been put in charge  
of Oliver Wood's search.  
  
"Oh Merlin," Percy gasped, falling back on his chair. "Oh God. Oliver."  
  
He hadn't even really liked Oliver that much when they were going through school. Why was he so worried about him now? All Oliver liked was Quidditch, Gryffindor's Quidditch team, and Quidditch. He never dated, never really had any close friends, and absolutely never said anything about his family. So why was Percy so distraught over his disappearance?  
  
Because when Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets, it was Oliver who put away Quidditch through the Ages and sat with him in the dormitory. Because when he and Penelope had fought it had always been Oliver who gave him advice and listened to him rant. Because when a young, crass, Malfoy had called Hermione Granger a Mudblood, it had been Oliver Wood who had confronted him, and wound up in the hospital wing for three days with a broken nose, mild concussion, and broken wrist, courtesy of Derrick and Bole, Slytherin Chasers.  
  
He was just an all-around decent guy, and the kind of guy who did not deserve to be kidnapped by You-Know-Who. As always, Percy's first response was still the same: run to the highest authority figure. That would be Mr. Cornelius Fudge. But the Ministry were already doing everything they could to find him. The next response: run to his family. Yeah. That would work. They hated him, and wouldn't even talk to him.  
  
His family wouldn't talk to him...but maybe someone else would. Frantically scrabbling around for a piece of parchment, Percy sat down at his kitchen table and wrote furiously. She would probably be the only one who wouldn't tear the letter up the second she got it. Percy was convinced that the twins had used his daily letters for target practice with their wands. He had sent a daily owl to them the first two weeks after the Ministry was convinced that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned. None of his letters of apology were answered.  
  
He called Hermes over to him. "You know where to take this," he whispered as he tied the letter onto the screech owl's leg. "Just make sure that no one else but her gets it all right? Bite them if you have to, I don't care. She's the only one who can see this." Hermes looked at him with his golden eyes, nipped his finger affectionately, and sailed off into the dusk.

Angelina slammed into the ground. The fresh scent of grass and flowers filled her nose as she remained there for a few seconds. She finally opened her eyes and stood up. A rickety house stood in her immediate view. It looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it. "Come ladies," Dumbledore said, gallantly holding the door open for them.  
  
"Thank you," Angelina muttered. She entered the house and looked around. It was obviously a wizarding home. Here were things that she had grown up with, familiar things that every wizard household had. It was comfortable, and a little bit of her security crept back in. she took a deep breath, and then jumped when someone called her name.  
  
"Oh Angelina! Katie! Alicia! How lovely to see you all dears," Mrs. Weasley said as she bustled down the stairs. "We were going to invite you to stay a little bit each summer, but we never got around to it, I'm sorry. Come in; don't stand out in the cold!" Angelina sat down, feeling more comfortable. Fred and George always promised the three Chasers that they were going to spend a few weeks out of the summer at their house, but somehow they never got around to it. She had known Mrs. Weasley for years, ever since she had helped Angelina and her mother with the tickets at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Occasionally the Weasley parents would come to Hogwarts for the holidays, and other such things.  
  
"Hello Mrs. Weasley," Katie said politely. Mrs. Weasley bustled around the kitchen and threw down several plates of food in front of the three girls. Angelina felt that someone had answered her deepest wishes.  
  
"Fred and George on out, but they should be home soon dears, don't worry," Mrs. Weasley said absently, heaping a pile of food on her plate at least two feet high. Angelina looked at the food, looked at Mrs. Weasley, and then back at the food.  
  
"Well dig in dear, don't let it go to waste," Mrs. Weasley said, coming down from her contemplation. Angelina obliged, and ate the food gratefully.  
  
"Where are Fred and George?" Katie asked. Mrs. Weasley looked at her curiously. Since Katie had had her mouth full at the moment, the sentence sounded much more like "Ere's Red and 'Orge?" Katie swallowed her food and asked the question again.  
  
"Oh that!' Mrs. Weasley said, laughing. "They've just gone to get Harry. He should be here soon. As a matter of fact, he should be here in a few hours. All right!"  
  
"Harry Potter's coming here?" Katie asked curiously. "How many people do you have at the house?"  
  
"Not more than we can handle of course, but now that you mention it, we do seem to be rather full. Let's see, Fred and George are at their old room, Harry can sleep in Ron's, Hermione and Ginny can share the same room...of course Bill and Charlie are using Percy's old room..." Mrs. Weasley sniffed. Angelina curled her lip. She had never been very fond of Percy when he was at school, and when Fred told her about what he had done...well, it was lucky that he wasn't around her at the time. It looked like he might still expect to have children.  
  
"Where are we sleeping?" Alicia suddenly asked. "I'm dead tired." She yawned to prove her point. Mrs. Weasley looked out at the dark night.  
  
"Of course dear! Let me see here..." she looked around the crowded house. "I suppose that we could fit another cot in Ginny's room...Katie, you can sleep there, and then...oh dear, I have no idea where Alicia and Angelina are going to sleep."  
  
'It's all right Mrs. Weasley," Alicia reassured her. "I can sleep out here on the sofa. And Angelina can sleep on the chair." Alicia glared at Angelina as if to challenge her to argue with this decree. Being wiser than that, Angelina nodded her head and smiled.  
  
"Are you sure?" Mrs. Weasley asked. She looked hesitant for a moment, and then smiled. "It would be such a help if you did that. We're so pressed for space, and anything to save space would be very much appreciated."  
  
Alicia rose and hugged Mrs. Weasley. "Consider it done," she laughed. "All we need is a few blankets, and then we'll be ready for the night."  
  
Mrs. Weasley rushed off to get them what they needed while the three Chasers stood in the kitchen.Harry Potter crept into the kitchen of the Burrow. It was very late, and the twins were not in a good mood. No trip on the Knight Bus had ever taken as long as that one. Harry thought it would be a very good idea if he never saw that accursed vehicle again. Right now all he wanted was to sit down and rest. And eat. To eat would be good.  
  
"Here," George said, putting down Harry's trunk. "We'll just leave this right here. It's not as if anyone's going to bother it, what with all the other luggage we have hanging around here." He looked around the kitchen and living room, and gave a start at seeing two lumps on the sofa and easy chair.  
  
"It's all right," Fred said, creeping over closer and peering down at the sleepers. "They're asleep, and bloody hell! It's Angelina and Alicia! How'd they get here?"  
  
"That would be my doing Mr. Weasley," a soft voice came from the shadows. Fred started and then put down his wand as Professor Dumbledore stood up from the chair he was sitting down on. "I thought it for the best if Mrs. Spinnet, Johnson and Bell were here for the meeting."  
  
"Katie's here too?" George asked in disbelief. The twins were flabbergasted, and Tonks took this moment to break into the conversation.  
  
"Fascinating though I'm sure this is, I'm going to call it a night," she said, yawning broadly for effect. "Dumbledore, Fred, George, Harry," she said, attempting a dramatic exit, but ruining the effect by tripping over the doormat. They heard a muffled curse, and then a crack like a whip as she disappeared.  
  
"Yeah, you'd better get to bed too Harry," George said, still staring over at the two sleeping girls. "Mum'll want to know that you made it though. I wouldn't wake her up. Best to tell her in the morning, when she's awake and coherent."  
  
"Good night Harry," Dumbledore said, shaking Harry's hand. Harry felt infinitely better that Dumbledore was talking to him again, and looking him in the eye instead of distance that he had kept between them last year. Harry nodded, and watched as Dumbledore also disappeared.  
  
"Night Harry," Fred said drowsily as he and George closed the door to their room. Harry climbed the steps to Ron's room, taking care to be quiet so as not to awaken him. Ron muttered in his sleep, but then rolled over and began a light snore.  
  
Harry shook his head, and closed his eyes. Almost immediately he was asleep.  
  
He was in a cold room. The pure iciness of it made him shiver and clutch his shoulders, chafing them in a desperate attempt to bring warmth into them. However, the coldness of the room was nothing compared with the chilling voice that spoke from the middle of the room.  
  
"Well Wood, have you had time to consider where your loyalties lie?" Voldemort asked, advancing on a hapless figure. Harry wanted to scream out a warning, to scream in terror, but he was frozen to the spot. At least this wasn't as bad as his dreams last year where he was actually in Voldemort's body. Here he was just an impartial bystander, forced to watch events from the sidelines.  
  
"Don't need to consider," he heard a Scottish voice rasp out. "Never would join you bastards for all the gold in Gringotts." Harry felt like crying at this answer. Wood had upset the Dark Lord...and the Dark Lord did not like being upset...  
  
"Again, you flout my expectations," Voldemort said sadly. "When will you learn that it is futile? Give in! No one cares about you! No one is coming for you! Do you think that the Ministry and that fool Dumbledore would risk their necks for you? Stupid boy! You make me sick with your naivety!"  
  
Don't believe it Wood! Harry thought desperately, trying to give the older man a message. We're coming for you, we're trying to find you, don't believe him! But from the obvious slump of Wood's shoulder it was obvious that the Scottish Keeper did believe what Voldemort was saying.  
  
"That's right," Voldemort said, in a false soothing voice. "Give in. just cry. It's over for you now. So why don't you tell me what you know? By telling me what you know, you might even save the life of your dear mum."  
  
Oliver's shoulders suddenly stiffened. "What about my mum?" he asked, his voice suddenly going dangerously low. "Don't you dare touch her!"  
  
"My dear boy, if you had told us everything to begin with, then we wouldn't even be having this conversation," Voldemort said in a silky voice. "But you were stubborn, I had to resort to violent measures. Now tell me what you know. Or else your dear friends from Quidditch will be getting an unexpected visit."  
  
"You leave them alone," Oliver said, his voice shaking with rage. "Don't you dare come near my family." Voldemort laughed a mirthless laugh.  
  
"Oh, I hope that I can leave them alone. Because frankly sending over several Death Eaters to your parent's house was a waste of my time and effort, and I couldn't use them for several hours. They didn't even get in any good practice. From what they said, the old woman would have just dropped dead of a heart attack when she saw them at the front door-"  
  
Voldemort's mocking had stopped suddenly. It took a few seconds before Harry realized that Oliver Wood had risen and had proceeded to tackle the Dark Lord. Oliver was fighting back. He was screaming many things, some of them names, some of them just random words unconnected to anything else in his brain.  
  
Voldemort had been taken by surprise by Oliver's sudden and vicious attack. But he soon regained the advantage. Oliver's torture weakened muscles were no match for Lord Voldemort's. He seized the Keeper's wrist in his unnaturally long fingers and held it with a tight grip. Oliver screamed as he felt the circulation cut off from his hand, and his already sprained wrist inflame with new pain.  
  
With a brutal kick, Voldemort had Oliver back down on the floor, though Wood's wrist was still in his hand. He kicked the younger man a few more times for emphasis before turning to the hand that was within his reach. He was panting, but laughing with a malicious humor.  
  
"Mr. Wood," he said, running his white fingers over Oliver's tan index fingers, "I think that we need to have another lesson. Since my curses do not seem to have any effect on your spirit, perhaps this will." He snickered as he tightened his grip on Oliver's wrist and Oliver's finger. Harry held his breath for a moment, and almost screamed when he heard a loud snap. Oliver did scream. His scream was hoarse, and raw, and so absolute it sounded like it was ripped from the depths of his soul.  
  
"Never," snap, "raise," snap, "your hand," snap, "against me." A final snap, and all five fingers of Oliver Wood's hands were broken. They had been cruelly snapped back to where the back of the finger could touch the back of his hand. Just looking at the limp, useless fingers made Harry want to heave. "Have you learned a lesson from this Wood?"  
  
Oliver cradled his hurt arm towards himself. For a few minutes, all that was heard was his ragged sobbing as he rose to where he was kneeling. He finally caught control of his breath and raised his head. In his normally deep, gentle brown eyes there was a hatred so pure and absolute it made Harry step back a pace.  
  
He had never known Oliver Wood's eyes could hold that much emotion. He had seen them happy, laughing, gleaming with a maniacal passion that bordered on obsession, widen in surprise when Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood, and narrow in dislike whenever Marcus Flint chanced to strut down the hallway. But he had never sent them so completely devoid of all normal human emotions and fill up on such hatred.  
  
"Be ready," Oliver said in a low, deadly voice. "Just be ready. Because I swear that one day, I will kill you." In that second, he looked exactly like Voldemort when he was in one of his more deadly rages. Voldemort stepped back slightly, and a feral smile took over Oliver Wood's face. The smile was capped off by a curl of the lip, and of course his wide eyes that were meeting Lord Voldemort's with absolute abhorrence.  
  
"Evidently not," Voldemort said, though Harry imagined that his voice was shaking. He took out his wand and pointed it at Wood. "This time we'll try to make the lesson STICK, won't we?" he asked, smiling a smile that was just as dangerous as Oliver's. He pointed the wand at Oliver's hurt hand. "CRUICIO!"  
  
Oliver and Harry screamed at exactly the same time. Harry fell backwards clutching his scar in agony. He felt a jarring pain in his back, and opened his eyes. Ron, Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all crowded into the bedroom looking at him.  
  
"Harry?" Ron asked him uncertainly. "Are you all right?" Harry rose to his feet, took a few tottering steps forward, and promptly vomited all over the floor. Hermione and Bill stepped back as they were closest to the remains of Harry's supper.  
  
"Come here dear," Mrs. Weasley said, putting her arm around Harry and helping him walk out of the room. "Was it a nightmare?" she asked him kindly, sitting him down on a toilet. She sponged his forehead off, and brushed his hair with her fingers.  
  
"Mum, is everything all right?" George asked, sticking his tousled head into the bathroom. "We heard screams..." his voice trailed off as he looked at Harry.  
  
"Yes George dear, everything's fine," Mrs. Weasley said, taking Harry's wrist in her hand and feeling his pulse. "You back to bed, and tell the others the same thing." Harry looked at her gratefully. He was in a cold sweat, and his mouth was feeling unpleasant. As a matter of fact, he thought he was going to...  
  
Mrs. Weasley swiftly stuck a bucket underneath him as he vomited again. He put his head between his knees and stayed there for a few minutes, looking at the white tile in an attempt to clear the pain in his head. He felt Mrs. Weasley's hands rubbing his back soothingly.  
  
"Are you all right Harry dear?" she asked, putting cold cloths on the back of his neck. "You do feel a little feverish, and all this vomiting..." she tsked and moved around the bathroom, getting all sorts of medicines. She performed a Vanishing Charm on the contents of the buckets. Harry faintly heard whispers, and the sounds of doors being shut.  
  
He closed his eyes, answering in a dull voice to Mrs. Weasley's questions and concerns. However bad he was feeling, it was a safe guarantee to say that Oliver Wood was feeling at least ten times worse.  
  
Awww! Poor Oliver! Review! Chapters are now being held for ransom! No new chapter until I see at least five new reviews! 


	4. Chapter Four: Crisis of Faith

A/N: After a short break, and a long time in which my hand got really cramped I'm back. I already said this in my other fic, but I no longer have my laptop, which means I can no longer pretend to be paying attention when I am really typing out my stories. Which means that I now have to write longhand and then type it into the computer. Safe to say that I now have very cramped hands, and God is continuing his vendetta against me by nearly hitting me and one of my friends with lightening, and actually hitting two of my friends with lightening. Odd.  
  
I'm trying to work on my spacing, but for some reason the computer hates me, and it won't let me use nice little spacer things. Thank for you for reviews...even though you did not get the requested five. You still done good! Maybe ransom won't work. First five reviewers get five bucks!  
  
Rejoice with me, for I have my tickets for opening night of PoA! Even though there is NO Oliver in there, it should be fun. If the movie stinks, then we can at least make fun of it. Right?  
  
Disclaimer: These are just little things to see how sarcastic I can actually be. Me? Sarcastic? Nooooooo...  
  
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Instead of going back to bed like his mother had demanded, Ron stayed up and paced in his room. Within ten minutes, his door creaked open. Looking very ill, pale, and sweaty, Harry walked into Ron's room. "All right?" Ron asked nervously. Harry nodded wearily. "Good," Ron said, and grabbed Harry tightly on the upper arm. Harry yelped in surprise and was silenced by a kick from Ron.  
  
"Sorry," Harry muttered irritably. "Where are we going anyway?"  
  
"Keep it down!" Ron growled as he heard Mrs. Weasley walk across the floor of her bedroom. They walked past where Bill and Charlie were sleeping. Harry could hear soft snores coming from within. Ron stopped at a door and knocked hesitantly. Almost immediately the door opened and both Harry and Ron were seized and drug inside.  
"I was wondering when you'd come," Hermione said anxiously. "For a second I thought it was Katie. She hasn't come back yet, and you know, I don't think she's going to either. But I've been waiting for ages...what was it Harry?"  
  
Ron glanced at Ginny in worry. She gave a very fake snore and snuggled down in her covers a little bit more. Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's all right Ginny," she said. "Everyone knows you're awake.' Immediately, Ginny jumped up and pulled on a light purple bathrobe.  
  
"So what happened?" Hermione asked, pulling her pink tartan bathrobe tighter around her. She sat down on the bed and looked at Harry eagerly.  
  
"It was Oliver," Harry said shortly, sitting on the bed beside Hermione. He felt reluctant, as he always did when he was talking about his visions of Voldemort. Why should they have to know what he saw? Was it really that important?  
  
"Oh Merlin," Ginny said, leaning forward, eager to catch every single detail. "He's not...dead is he?"  
  
"No, he's still alive," Harry continued. "For the time being at least. He...he didn't look very good." He looked around at Ginny, Hermione and Ron. "Voldemort was there," he said deliberately. Ron gasped and jumped at least six inches off the floor.  
  
"Oh good grief," Hermione said, not only to Ron, but to Ginny as well. Ginny's eyes were wide open in fear and her mouth was hanging open.  
  
"Why'd you say his name?" Ginny hissed angrily at Harry. "Don't say his name!"  
  
"Why not?" Hermione reasonably asked her. "If you fear to say the name, then your fear of the thing can only increase. Voldemort's main weapon is fear. Let's not give him more than what he deserves."  
  
"That's not the point!" Ron argued, though in a low voice. "How hard can it be to call him You-Know-Who? Some of us are actually afraid of him!" Hermione took a deep breath and waited for Harry to explode.  
  
"And you don't think I'm afraid of him?" Harry asked angrily, standing up from the bed. "Voldemort killed my parents! He's tried to kill me at least five times! I saw him kill Cedric! I saw..." his voice faltered, "I saw him his Death Eaters kill Sirius. How can you possibly think that I'm not afraid of him?"  
  
Harry stopped yelling. His chest was heaving, and his eyes were blazing angrily. Oddly enough, he felt like he was going to be sick again. He glared at Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. They stared back at him with terrified eyes.  
  
"Mum's coming," Ron said suddenly, listening to the footsteps coming closer. "She'll have heard you yelling," he said with a glance to Harry. The door opened and Ron turned around slowly, visibly gulping.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was standing in the doorway. "I thought I said for everyone to go to bed," she said with a dangerous smile. Harry was forcefully reminded of Umbridge and her sickly sweet smile.  
  
Ron shuffled his feet. "Well we just wanted to talk about it Mum," he said in a defeated tone. He was scuffing his shoes against the carpet. "You know, we couldn't sleep," he said in what he considered to be a winning tone.  
  
"Ron dear, I understand, but Harry needs his rest," his mother said firmly. "He's had a very hard night. Now come on." And with that, she led Ron and Harry out by the elbows, shutting the door behind her.  
  
Hermione let out a low breath as the door shut. "That was close," she said to Ginny.  
  
"Oh she'll be back," Ginny said darkly, looking at the door. "You can bet she'll be checking rooms after this." She came over to Hermione's bed and sat down. "Thus ends the midnight visits."  
  
"And what do we know?" Hermione asked, picking up on the defeated spirit. "Absolutely nothing." She shook her head and looked at the wall.  
  
"Blame Harry," Ginny said with the kind of look that she usually reserved for Slytherins and Percy. "What's wrong with him anyway?"  
  
Hermione thought and lighted on a phrase that her mother had used when Hermione had written to her in despair of ever figuring out Harry's mood swings. "He's just going through a phase," she said comfortingly. "He'll be the regular Harry soon enough." But she had forgotten that Ginny had lived with six older brothers.  
  
"Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron never went through a "phase"," Ginny said, making quotations with her fingers. "I think that Harry's just being an arse." She thought for a moment. "Maybe it's that time of the month."  
  
"I don't think that guys uhhh..do that Ginny," Hermione said uncomfortably. "Unless I was told wrong." She started wondering.  
  
"No, I swear, some men do PMS," Ginny said. "Percy always..." her voice trailed off and she bit her lip as she sunk into thought.  
  
"He still hasn't tried to make up?" Hermione asked carefully, looking at Ginny's face.  
  
"Oh, no, he has," Ginny said with another ugly look. "Let him feel rejected by his family for once. Give him a nice taste of what we went through all last year."  
  
Hermione sighed and looked out the window. "Speaking of Percy, isn't that his owl right there?" she asked curiously. Ginny went to the window to let in the impatient Hermes. He flew straight past Ginny to the startled Hermione.  
  
"Is this for me?" she asked the owl, untying the letter from around his legs. Hermes hooted once, nipped her finger and flew out of the window again. "Percy sent a letter to me?" Hermione asked, sounding utterly confused. "Why didn't he send one to his family first?"  
  
"Oh, he did," Ginny answered her. "Got a bit annoying really.  
  
"And your mum and dad...did what? Didn't answer them? Ignored them? That just doesn't seem like them somehow."  
  
"Well actually, they never knew that Percy was writing to us," Ginny informed cheerfully. "Fred and George always managed to intercept the letters before they got anywhere near the house. Then they threw them up in the air and shot fire out of their wands. They actually got pretty good," Ginny mused. "It got to the point where they were hitting nine out of ten."  
  
"We're not giving this letter to Fred and George," Hermione said grimly. "This letter is addressed to me, and I WILL open it." She broke the seal on the back and slid the parchment out. Her eyes scanned the paper as she read it aloud.  
  
"Dear Hermione," she mumbled. ""Although we have not recently been in contact, I believe that you are the only one to whom I can send this letter. It might have come to your associates attention that Oliver Wood, the former Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Keeper is reported missing. I wish to offer them my support, both emotional, and if they happen to need an extra body for the search. The Daily Prophet said that he was last seen in Northern Russia. If you are still in contact with Viktor Krum, you might consider writing to him to see if he has heard anything.  
If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I would like it very much if you wrote me a weekly letter as to the search's progress, etc. Your faithful servant, Percy Weasley."  
  
Hermione finished reading the letter. Ginny let out an impatient sigh and reached for the piece of parchment. "What's this rubbish?" she asked angrily. "Oliver Wood, former Quidditch Captain and Keeper...does he think that we wouldn't know who he was?"  
  
"He thinks that I wouldn't know," Hermione said patiently. "I don't really mind it that much." Ginny made an incredulous tuh noise.  
  
"Well, you're not going to are you?" she asked, throwing the letter on the bed. "Write to him I mean. Are you?"  
  
"I might not write to him weekly, but I will mention his name at the meeting tomorrow, and I will write to Viktor. I can't believe that I didn't think about writing to him first."  
  
"Well, he was Head Boy for a reason," Ginny muttered, but so Hermione could hear her. "He's not entirely stupid now is he?"  
  
"No," Hermione said, putting away the letter beside her bed. "Not entirely." She flopped onto the bed and blew out the candle. "Good night Ginny."  
  
"Good night Hermione," Ginny sleepily replied. Despite the night's activity, sleep was beckoning. She rolled over on her side, and within seconds, she was asleep.  
  
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Meanwhile, Katie Bell was having a very hard time falling asleep. She had jerked awake when she heard Harry's scream. She had run several flights upstairs to be met by a very rumpled Bill. He told her to go back to bed, and then slammed the door shut. She had tried to follow his request, but found that she couldn't calm down. She had not returned to Hermione's and Ginny's room, and had instead gone downstairs to where Alicia and Angelina were sleeping.  
  
Alicia's foot twitched in her sleep. Katie was violently reminded of her grandmother's small terrier when he was sleeping. He moved his feet in exactly the same way. Alicia was always a light sleeper, unlike Angelina. The older black girl was sleeping on her side with her arm hanging to the side and her mouth hanging wide open. Katie crept cautiously around them. She had always felt uncomfortable walking around while others were sleeping. It made her feel like she was invading their peace and personal space.  
  
Katie took several deep breaths. She always tried to be happy-go- lucky and cheerful. Her philosophy was simple, but effective.  
  
When she was twelve, her Muggle grandfather had died. Katie had spent a week being weepy, mopey, and absolutely miserable. Then, one night while she was in the shower, she had sustained what Alicia fondly called "Katie Bell's lessons of life."  
  
While she was in the shower, Katie had gone off into a sort of trance. While she was zoning out, she had had her big think. The way she finally saw it, you could look at life in one of two ways. You could look at life as being unfair, horrible, and utterly depressing. Or, you could look at it as being mainly good with its occasional downfalls. Of course, some things were just flat-out not funny of course, but for the most part, life was full of dramatic irony and puns.  
  
When she had returned to herself, the water was freezing, her fingers and toes resembled a large prune, and her mother was screaming at her to turn that water off because they were in a drought, and there were people dying in Africa for goodness sakes.  
  
Katie laughed shallowly. So that was her main thought on life. Too bad it wasn't working now. She was trying to find the bright side of the situation, but she couldn't. Perhaps this was one of the very few occasions that didn't have a bright side at all.  
  
Katie sat down on the floor and leaned against the couch. Alicia made a small noise and jerked awake. "Katie?" she asked after he eyes adjusted. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Katie smiled faintly. "I couldn't sleep?" she asked, trying to give a winning grin.  
  
Alicia made a small noise of disbelief. "Katie, it's at least," she checked her softly glowing watch, "three in the morning! Do you know how late you're up?"  
  
'Don't think of it as very late, so much as...very, very, early," Katie suggested with her smile on at full brightness.  
  
Alicia groaned and sat up on the sofa. "Come here Katie," she said, her voice tinged with weariness as she threw the covers off. Katie settled herself down on the sofa beside Alicia and put the quilt over her. "So why couldn't you sleep?" Alicia asked with endless patience.  
  
"I think I'm having a crisis of faith," Katie finally said. Alicia was confused. "It's really hard to explain."  
  
"Just try to," Alicia cajoled softly. Not for the first time, Katie thought of what a wonderful mother Alicia would be. She was gentle, loving, patient, and could be strict when required to be.  
  
"It's just that..." Katie's voice trailed off and then gathered strength. "Remember who was always there when you got hurt? Remember when we were playing Ravenclaw in your third year, and that Bludger broke your wrist? Who was the first person there? Remember at Halloween the same year when the troll got in? Who did you automatically go to? When you were scared, or hurt, who was always there?"  
  
"Oliver," Alicia said simply. "Whenever I needed a shoulder to cry on, he was always there. Remember when Roger and I broke up in fourth year?"  
  
Katie nodded. Alicia's and Roger Davies nasty breakup had been the talk of Hogwarts for at least two days. Nearly twenty people had seen calm sweet, mild mannered Alicia Spinnet with her hair mussed, screaming at the top of the fourth floor corridor at Roger. He had done something to upset her, Katie wasn't sure what.  
  
"I cried so hard that night," Alicia said. "I just felt so betrayed. But you and Angelina were doing some Quidditch training with the twins, so you weren't there. But Oliver was there. And he didn't say anything. He just held me."  
  
"Yeah," Katie slowly said. "The guys that I know that can actually intelligently listen are well...one."  
  
Alicia rested her blonde head on Katie's light brown one. "I miss him," she said softly. "I really miss him." Tears began to fall down her face and into Katie's hair. Katie began to cry and clung tightly to Alicia. "I really, really miss him."  
  
The two Chasers held each other and shook with the forces of their sobs. 


	5. Chapter Five: Standing Up

A/N: Well, I just saw Prisoner of Azkaban, and...well. I think that Alfonso could have spent a little less time on the special effects, and a little more in developing the plot. Me being the Quidditch freak that I am, I sorely missed the Ravenclaw and Slytherin matches, as well as the tension of the Quidditch final. (I also missed Oliver, but we're not going to say anything about that.) Not a lot was made of important things like Cedric Diggory, or the Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs plot points, or Black being the Potter's Secret Keeper, or Pettigrew returning to Voldemort. Several of my favorite scenes were changed beyond recognition, or ignored all together...shall I go on? It was a fairly good movie, but not a very accurate representation of the book.  
  
But ignoring all that, seeing the movie inspired me to write this little short chapter and pop it out for your enjoyment...or torment, which have you. It's fairly short, and sets up later events. That being said, you go see the movie, and tell me what you thought about it and my story in your reviews. (Hint, Hint!)  
  
Disclaimer: There's a list at least five pages long of who Harry Potter belongs to. My name is not on it anywhere.  
  
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Oliver rolled over onto his back. He was feeling better than he had in a long time. Using his uninjured arm, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. His head swam, and his vision blurred. He shook his head furiously to clear his sight. When his head stopped feeling like it was strapped onto a bucking broomstick, he looked around his cell. The walls were damp, and water dripped from the ceiling. The air was freezing, and Oliver suspected that he would soon have a nasty cold.  
  
He cradled his right hand to his chest and used his left hand to pull himself to the door. When he arrived at the door, his foot brushed against something. The sound of it echoed in the small chamber. He looked back and saw two pieces of broken wood. He sadly picked them up and looked at them. It was his faithful wand that had seen him through seven years at Hogwarts, his O.W.L.s and his N.E.W.T.s, and two years of living on his own. And now it was gone.  
  
"Twelve and a half inches, willow with dragon heartstring," he murmured to himself. "Good wand for...oh bloody hell, was it Transfiguration or Charms work?" He shrugged. Seeing as he was going to die here, it didn't make much difference. It wasn't so much the losing of the wand that hurt, it was the destruction of a keepsake. His mum and da had been so proud when he had found his wand. His da had even taken a picture of him holding it, ignoring the wreckage of the shop behind Oliver.  
  
Oliver suddenly sat up straight. His mum and da! What had Voldemort said about them? Oh Christ, he had killed them hadn't he? Oliver hit the door feebly with his left hand. his parents were dead, and here was, wasting away in prison. He should be dying right now, to avenge his parents and for freedom in the true Scottish way, but here he was, fading without a struggle. He should be out kicking Voldemort's arse, but he was too much of a coward to even stand up.  
  
Oliver leaned his head against the cool wood of the cell door. He had never felt so bad in his entire life, and that was counting the time that Gryffindor had lost to Hufflepuff in his seventh year. His right hand sat uselessly in his lap, the fingers bent into all sorts of macabe positions. He hung his head and let several tears fall out. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this one.  
  
Though it wasn't his fault, if one looked at it in the right way. Who knew that giants were that touchy about personal space, and that grumpy when they had been disturbed? The Order certainly hadn't told him anything of the sort before they sent him off. Speaking of the Order, they had yet to make his appearance. Oliver's hand stole down inside his robes to gently stroke the phoenix feather. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. And when you had nothing, something went a long way.  
  
Oliver smiled at his twisted logic, and withdrew his hand. How dearly he wished for human contact that wasn't a Death Eater! How he longed to feel the wind in his face and the kiss of the sun! How he yearned to feel the lovely swooping feeling in his stomach that only came with riding a broomstick! How wanted anything more than to not be stuck in this miserable dank cell! Again, Oliver Wood found himself thinking longingly of Snape's class.  
  
Oliver let himself pout and be miserable for maybe about five more minutes. Then he took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. He straightened out his index finger on his right hand while trying not to scream. The pain hit him in the stomach like he had been punched there. He did the same thing with his other fingers: straightening out the bone with his left hand while letting out muffled screams with his teeth clenched tightly shut. He was biting his lower lip so hard that he tasted the warm coppery taste of blood in his mouth. When all the bones were relatively straight, Oliver stopped. He leaned his head against the door and let out whimpers and moans of pain. Now the really hard part was going to start.  
  
He somehow managed to tear five strips of cloth off his robes. Starting with his right thumb, he pulled them tightly around the mangled digits. Being left handed did have its advantages, he reflected as he pulled the cloth tighter. He still had his strong hand to help him. When he was done wrapping his fingers, he let himself fall to the ground. As he was slowly drifting off the pain became less...less...less...  
  
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When Oliver awoke, it was into a world of pain. His fingers were throbbing, his feet felt like someone was stabbing them with pins and needles, and he had a roaring headache that made him feel like he had just taken a Bludger to the head. Oliver let out a groan of agony. He then set his mind. Sitting around on his bum wasn't going to help anything. He found a space in the wall and linked his left hand into it. Using the muscles that were so helpful in Quidditch practice, he started to stand up. The Quidditch muscles suddenly found another use. Using his legs and his left arm, he staggered to his feet.  
  
When he was finally standing straight, Oliver let out a grin of triumph. "Yes!" he whispered to himself, throwing his right arm up in victory. He took a shaky step forward. Almost immediately, his head started swimming and he felt slightly tipsy. He waited for the feeling to pass and took another shaky step, and another. Soon he had crossed the entire width of the cell in his tentative steps. It felt good. His former despair lifted to be replaced with a sort of melancholy hope.  
  
He did not doubt that he would die, but at least he would be privileged enough to thwart Voldemort's plan. He would die as Albus Dumbledore wished him to: like a true Gryffindor, with honor and courage. He would die standing on his feet like his father would have wished him to, a defiant Scotsman to the last. He would die like his father had undoubtedly had: fighting to the very last breath. The thought that he would have made his parents proud nursed his growing strength.  
  
He made several trips around the cell, conditioning his muscles with each trip. Soon he felt as strong as he had the day he was captured. He loosened up his muscles, rolled his shoulders, and leaned against the wall, waiting for someone to come. When he did hear voices, he pushed off from the wall, and stood at attention. He felt the curious feeling that he had before every Quidditch mate: the feeling of his sense leaving him and only of concentrating on the most important details, while seeing everything else as a cohesive whole. The lock clicked, and the door opened.  
  
With a wild yell, Oliver rushed forward.  
  
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Every man dies, it's just a question of how and when. But not every man truly lives. ,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,  
  
Please review. 


	6. Chapter Six: The Order

A/N: Well. After a long break, I am back! There should be a drumroll. I decided to just go ahead and type this out since A) you guys have been waiting for a long time, and B) I am very highly depressed. My best friend's dog died, and then my other best friend's bunny died. And my favorite character in the Patrick O'Brian novels died and/or disappeared, so sadness all around. But hopefully, writing will give me a better grip on things.  
  
Thank you again to all the reviewers. Chocolate Frogs to ArtemisiaQuill, who caught my Braveheart reference. Just warning you, I will from time to time put quotes from other movies, books, TV shows, etc. into my writing. And on the subject of reviews (I have no shame) writing more of them encourages me to go a lot faster. And thank you for saying that the characters are actually in character. That's something I worry about. They're tough little buggers to write.  
  
Disclaimer: My brain is dead, and I can't think of something witty or sarcastic to put here. I don't own it. End of story.  
  
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"Harry, Harry come on!" Hermione yelled energetically to Harry. Harry looked up from where he and Ron had been playing Exploding Snap. Ron's eyebrows were scorched and Harry's bangs were smoldering. "Nice," she said, rolling her eyes at them. "Come on, the meeting's getting ready to start."  
  
"What meeting?" Ron asked, following them down the stairs. "This is the first I've heard about it. she knows more about what goes on in my house than I do," he whispered to Harry.  
  
"Oh for goodness sakes Ron, don't you ever pay attention?" Hermione asked impatiently. "I was in the same place that you were, I just happened to pay attention more."  
  
"That's beside the point," Ron said shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"That's assuming you had a point," Herminoe said coolly. Harry smiled and elbowed Ron in the ribs as they finished walking down the stairs.  
  
"So what meeting is this?" Ron asked Hermione. "I'm going to pay attention to it!" he protested when Hermione looked at him sharply.  
  
"The Order of the Phoenix Ron," Herminoe said with an expression of exasperated patience. "They were going to have the meeting yesterday, except Harry, Fred, George, and Tonks didn't get here until it was too late." She smiled gently and patted Ron on the shoulder.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood in the corner of the room. They were supposed to be in the meeting this time, but they still feared that Mrs. Weasley would send them out of the room. Hermione stepped backwards, and then stumbled forwards when she heard a sharp cry. "What the...?" Ron looked around and saw nothing behind him. But when he moved his foot cautiously forward it hit something.  
  
"Ouch," an angry voice whispered. "Ron, that was my shin!" The air shimmered, and Ginny's red hair appeared in mid-air. Ron and Harry both stepped back. "Moody left his spare Invisibility Cloak in the kitchen. There's no other chance that I'm going to let in on the meeting," she explained.  
  
"Moody can see through Invisibility Cloaks you know," Harry informed Ginny matter-of-factly. "He probably won't tell on you during the meeting, but he will tell your mother after the meeting. Better to just let us tell you what happened."  
  
"Ron won't tell me anything," Ginny said grumpily. "he doesn't think that I should be hear anything that has oh say...words in it?" she said sarcastically. Ron turned red and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.  
  
"Well look, they're coming now," Hermione said impatiently. "Ron, she'll have to stay. And after all, she's fifteen. She's not a child anymore." Ginny nodded her head vigorously at this. "Let's see...by the time you were fifteen you'd already...let's see here," Herminoe said, ticking off tasks on her fingers. "You'd already defeated a troll, gotten past McGonagall's chess set, found the Chamber of Secrets, faced down a murderer, survived a merpeople kidnapping, and fought of Death Eaters. Ginny's done at least two of those."  
  
"All right," Ron said grudgingly. Harry and Hermione quickly stepped in front of Ginny, shielding her from view. When Ron turned around he saw why. Mad-Eye Moody had entered the room.  
  
He stumped over to the table that had been pulled in the living room. "No, no thank you Molly," he growled at Mrs. Weasley as she offered him a cup of tea. He took a deep drink from his hip flask and looked around. His eye finally lighted on Harry, Hermione and Ron. They all looked a tad bit suspicious. "Had a good holiday Potter?" he growled. Harry wordlessly nodded. "And you two?" he asked Hermione and Ron. "Are you keeping him out of trouble?"  
  
Ron nodded his head vigorously, as did Hermione. She giggled. "Trying to at least," she said shyly. Ron sent her an incredulous look which Hermione didn't seem to notice.  
  
The awkward silence was broken by the noise of Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George coming inside the house. "Hello Mum," Fred and George said in unison. They descended on their mother, nearly picking her up with the force of their hugs. Mrs. Weasley weakly protested, but Harry could see that she was pleased. Bill and Charlie welcomed their mother just as warmly, though perhaps not as exuberantly. Harry watched the Weasleys interact.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was short and stout. Fred and George were perfectly identical, in personality and in looks. Bill was tall with his long hair, and fang earring. Charlie was built like the twins with a shorter, more solid build. All had flaming red hair and freckles. As he watched them Harry had the intense desire to belong to a family. He would never, ever, have a family that was as close-knit as the Weasleys.  
  
Fred, George, Charlie, and Bill seated themselves on the sofa. "The meeting's going to last for a while young children," Fred said. "Draw up a chair." He traced the outline of a folding chair in the air. It was made solid and hit the floor with a soft thud. Without thinking, Harry grabbed the chair and sat down.  
  
Almost immediately, Harry felt a strange and painful sensation. His legs shot straight up in the air. He was looking at the world through his knees. As he stared straight ahead, he could piece together what had happened. As he had sat down, the chair had snapped up, sending his legs and arms straight into the air. His eyes were beginning to water with pain and his glasses were askew.  
  
"Fred, George, can you help me?" Harry choked out.  
  
"Of course Harry dear," George said, waving his wand. The chair immediately relaxed. Harry climbed into a more comfortable position. Ron and Hermione each got chairs, poking them cautiously before sitting in them.  
  
"What's going on here then?" Lupin asked as he walked into the room and sat down beside Bill. Bill made a small noise and flicked the newspaper open.  
  
"A chair ate Harry's arse," Bill said with total calm. He changed another page of the newspaper. Lupin raised his eyebrows and settled back down in the sofa.  
  
The door clanged open, and then shut. Harry thought nothing of it until he heard commotion behind him. "Let me help you with that Molly," a young female voice said. Harry looked at where Tonks had just come in with Kingsley. Mrs. Weasley was trying to wrestle a tea tray away from Tonks, who was sporting her short pink hair again. Tonks won the fight and staggered backwards, nearly hitting Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. Harry closed his eyes as Tonks' foot caught on the carpet. He heard her sharp cry and the rattle of the dishes as they flew through the air.  
  
"Immobulus!" someone cried. Harry opened his eyes to see Professor McGonagall put her wand back in her robes. She and Dumbledore went around and gathered up the cups which were frozen in mid-air. Fred looked up in absolute terror at the sugar bowl that was about to hit him on the forehead. Bill completely ignored the spoon that was about an inch away from his head and flick another page of the newspaper. Tonks picked herself up off the floor.  
  
"I'm sorry!" she wailed, repairing the broken tray with a wave of her wand. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie came into the room. Alicia took her hair out of her ponytail and shook it out, freezing when she saw the twins.  
  
"Fred! George!" she squealed in delight, giving them both a very awkward hug. "It feels like it's been forever! How come you left so early?" she asked them sternly. "We would have liked to play Quidditch with you lot."  
  
"Sorry Lishers," George said smartly, patting her hand. "Some of us actually have jobs and are making our way in the world." He smiled at her and ducked a swift blow from Alicia, to be caught by one from Katie. "You've ganged up on me!" George said with a mock astonished look. Before either of the Chasers could say anything else, Dumbledore coughed slightly.  
  
"Are we all assembled?" he asked in his calm, reassuring, and gentle voice. "Good. Let us begin."  
  
"Just getting small things out of the way first, I think I've managed to persuade some of the goblins to, if not join the Order, at least think more kindly on it. and Fleur's talked to some of the wizards in France. They seem pretty open to join the Order."  
  
"On that note, some of the wizards in Romania have dropped hints about the Order," Charlie said. Dumbledore nodded with satisfaction.  
  
"Good, good," he said quietly. "Does anyone else have anything to-yes Ms. Granger?"  
  
"Percy wrote to me last night," she said, putting down her shaking hand. "He wrote about Oliver." Mr. Weasley gripped Mrs. Weasley tightly on the shoulder. Dumbledore looked intently at Hermione. When she stopped and looked around uncertainly, he motioned for her to continue. She looked at the stone-faced Weasley's and nervously continued. "But...he said that he read about Oliver in the Prophet, and that he wanted to help. He also said that I should write to Viktor Krum."  
  
Dumbledore slowly nodded. Bill's jaw tightened, and his eyes took on a metallic glint. Dumbledore opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Bill. "Well, we're not going to let him are we?" he asked angrily, standing up. "For a year we've been insulted and ignored by him. And now he just waltzes back here and we're going to let him do that?" Mrs. Weasley tried to speak, but Bill angrily cut her off. "No. We are not telling him a goddamn thing! Let him come crawling back on his belly like the cringing snail he is."  
  
"Bill!" Mr. Weasley roared, standing up. His face was red with a sudden fury. "You stop that right now. You sit down and shut your mouth sir." Mr. Weasley and his eldest son faced off for a second. For a wild moment, Harry actually thought that Bill was going to hit his father, but then he subsided. Bill sank back to the couch trembling in rage.  
  
Harry, Hermione, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie sat in quiet terror. They had never seen either of the Weasley parents very angry. True, they had seen Mrs. Weasley indignant and annoyed but they had never seen Mr. Weasley even mildly irritated. Harry looked down at the floor. No one had spoken, and the atmosphere was that of the deadly silence of a city just after an earthquake has hit it. Hermione caught his eye and nodded slightly, her eyes wide.  
  
Lupin cleared his throat and broke the silence. "Now that we've got all that out of our systems, can we continue please?" he asked the Order in a light, mild voice. Bill glared at him mutinously, but said nothing. "Good, good," he said.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, and made a tall steeple with his fingers. "Let us put the matter of Mr. Weasley out of our minds until we are able to discuss it rationally. Let us now turn to the matter of Mr. Wood."  
  
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TBC... 


	7. Chapter Seven: Mr Wood

A/N: Thank you for all of your support-I do feel better. I've said it before and I'll say it again-writing is my Zen. And on a very happy note: I went to the dentist-teeth are fine; I went to the optometrist, and my eyes are fine. I am one healthy person. I am really something. And now I'm done with pumping up my ego. Thanks for reviews. Here's the next chapter.  
  
Disclaimer: I'm stupid, and my sarcastic wit has left me. Man. It doesn't belong to me. Read my typing: IT DOESN'T BELONG TO ME. Thank you.  
  
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Lucius Malfoy's cold gray eyes flicked up and down. Up. Wham. Down. Wham. Up. Wham. Down. Wham. Escaping from Azkaban had been too incredibly easy now that it was out of the dementor control. Within two weeks of being put in Azkaban, he was sipping tea outside of his manor house. Of course now he was here in Russia, but that was beside the point. He noted the clicking of the lock, but didn't turn around. He did stiffen, and every hair on the back of his neck stood up when he heard the cold voice.  
  
"Much as I would enjoy watching to see how long it would take you to stick him to the ceiling, we do have work to do," Voldemort said lazily, putting his hand on Lucius's shoulder. "Honestly. He's not going anywhere." Voldemort's eyes flicked up to the ceiling where Oliver Wood's body was plastered ten feet off the ground.  
  
"He attacked me," Lucius said, his chest heaving up and down with loathing. "He attacked a Malfoy. No one attacks a Malfoy. No one. Especially not some damn Mudblood Scot!"  
  
"Lucius, I have asked you once, do not make me ask you again," Voldemort said. His voice carried the slightest hint of a threat. Lucius heard it, and knew when he had toed the line. His shoulders slumped, and the glittering light of revenge and bloodlust left his eyes. Lucius could feel Voldemort's nod of approval and the red eyes boring into the back of his skull.  
  
Lucius turned around and respectfully averted his eyes. He ended up looking at the frail body on the ground. Hate surged through him again, overpowering the fear of the Dark Lord. He strode over quickly to where Oliver was lying. "No one attacks a Malfoy," he hissed, curling his lip. He swiftly kicked Oliver in the temple and watched the sudden jerk and slump as he went unconscious. "No one attacks a Malfoy," he repeated himself, his body and voice shaking in rage.  
  
The door closed, and the lock clicked.  
  
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There was dead silence in the Weasley's living room. Angelina glanced around the room. The Order, guests, and family were sitting on the furniture, with their eyes cast to the floor. It was Harry that spoke first.  
  
"So what's wrong with him?" Harry asked, leaning forwards toward Dumbledore. "We know that something's wrong with him. We just don't know what it is, why it's happened, or how we can stop it."  
  
Angelina looked at Harry. His black hair was as unruly as ever, and his bright green eyes peered out from underneath his bangs that also hid his scar. He had always been thin but he looked unhealthy. His cheekbones were sticking out and he had large shadows under his eyes. Voldemort's return had not been kind to the Boy-Who-Lived.  
  
"Yes, I know," Dumbledore said. "I do regret that you," he looked at Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred and George, "the people who needed to know most about Mr. Wood were kept in the dark the longest. It is time that you know everything about the circumstances in which Oliver Wood disappeared."  
  
"The first thing you have to know is that nothing leaves this house," Moody growled. "When someone tries to beat what you heard here out of you, you will not even open your mouth to scream. Understand that?"  
  
Katie wordlessly nodded, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. Alicia cheerfully patted her on the knee. Katie made a tiny whimper, and a grimace of terror.  
  
"Thank you Alastor," Dumbledore said. Moody nodded and relapsed into silence. "The second thing you need to know is that Oliver Wood was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He was not only a member, but one of the top members in the intelligence gathering department."  
  
"But why?" Fred laughed. He looked slightly abashed at McGonagall's harsh look, but continued to make his point. "I've known Oliver for a pretty long time, and I didn't even know that he could do magic, much less do it well."  
  
"Well you weren't watching very hard Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said. "Oliver Wood was certainly not the best student to go through Gryffindor, but he was not the worst. The worst student award could be claimed by yourself and your twin." George and Fred both shifted uncomfortably, and their mother gave them a fearsome look. "Would it surprise you to learn that in two subjects, Oliver Wood graduated in the top one hundred best averages?"  
  
"What were they?" George asked, finally speaking up. His curiosity had won out over his fear of Professor McGonagall.  
  
"His two best subjects were Herbology and believe it or not, Potions," Professor McGonagall said with a small, sarcastic smile. "Professor Snape did his best to make sure that no Gryffindor ever had a good grade in Potions, but true talent for a subject cannot be denied."  
  
"Wow," Fred said admiringly. "So the Bludgers didn't damage his brain. They might've helped it. Old Ollie was pretty smart."  
  
"Who would've thought?" George echoed, nodding his head solemnly. The twins sent each other meaningful looks and nodded firmly once.  
  
"Yes, if we could turn aside from Mr. Wood's academic accomplishments, perhaps we could continue in our story," McGonagall said acidly. Fred and George promptly shut their mouths. "Professor Dumbledore?" she motioned to him.  
  
"Thank you Professor McGonagall," he said to her. "Like I said before, Oliver Wood was vital to helping us gather intelligence."  
  
"But why?" Katie asked. "Why would Oliver-" she nodded as the realization came to her. "The Quidditch."  
  
Dumbledore pointed at her. "Exactly Ms. Bell. Mr. Wood's career enabled him to travel to places all over the world, many of which have Dark Wizards in them. So he had a very good opportunity to pry around in tight places. Not only this, but he drafted many wizards into the Order."  
  
"But all of his espionage left him vulnerable," Lupin explained. "Some of the smarter wizards in Voldemort's army wondered why the Keeper of Puddlemere United was poking around in all these shady places. Some wondered more than others, and did some research into his old school records. They found that he had been a Gryffindor, a group notorious for its close associations with Albus Dumbledore. They went back to the pubs that Oliver was in, and found out the questions that he was asking."  
  
"And these smart little Death Eaters told Voldemort, who is no dummy himself, and he figured it out. Not the whole conspiracy, but the fact that Oliver Wood, Puddlemere United's Keeper was in a group with Albus Dumbledore. That this was a group that was devoted to bringing down Voldemort's power. And Oliver being a certain high profile person, it wasn't hard for Voldemort to see When Puddlemere was playing Bulgaria. Bulgaria is of course, relatively unnoticed by major wizard media. If it wasn't for their Quidditch team, they would fall off the map entirely. It was too incredibly easy for the Death Eaters to kidnap Oliver," Charlie finished.  
  
"From what we could gather from our remaining intelligence people, Oliver was fed a bogus tip about a gathering of Death Eaters in a small cave. He foolishly went alone, without telling the Order about what he was going to do. Oliver went to the cave expecting to see several Death Eaters having a meeting. What he saw was three giants, two sleeping, and one awake. He was watching for Oliver," Tonks finished, tossing a quill that she had been chewing to the table.  
  
"And that's the last we've heard of him?" Angelina asked. "Aurors crawling over the entire Wood case, and no one has a clue of where he is?"  
  
"I have all my team on this," Kingsley said. "Ever since," he sent a quick look at Harry, "ever since Sirius died, we haven't had a lot of work to do." Kingsley thought about how that statement would seem, and added quickly to it. "We can't find much information on his whereabouts. When Voldemort kidnaps someone, he takes great pains to make sure that they are not easily found." Alicia started as she recognized what Dumbledore had said earlier at Angelina's house.  
  
Harry looked up from where he had been staring at the ground. "What about Snape?" he asked. His voice was harsh with pain and hate. He had still not forgotten Sirius, and the feud between Sirius and Snape. Everyone looked over to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting.  
  
"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him gently. Harry made a small noise of disgust. Dumbledore made to say something else, but Harry interrupted him.  
  
"What is he doing?" Harry asked angrily. He pounded his fist on his knee to make his point. "Why are we keeping him on if he's not going to provide us with any information? What's the point of having him in the Order if he can't get us any information on Oliver?" Harry stopped shouting. Everyone was looking at him with total and abject fear in their eyes. Everyone except for Lupin, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Hermione. Their expressions were filled with pity and understanding. That was the last thing that Harry wanted then, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.  
  
"Harry, rest assured that Professor Snape is doing the best that he can," Dumbledore said sternly. "He is, for the moment, working to secure the location of Oliver Wood. We know that he has seen Mr. Wood at least once. He is unable to report to us because Lord Voldemort is watching his every move closely. Voldemort does not tolerate spies among his Death Eaters."  
  
"Excuse me Professor Dumbledore sir?" Hermione asked shyly. "What exactly does V-Voldemort want with Oliver? I mean, why go to the trouble of keeping him alive? You just said that Voldemort doesn't tolerate spies; why is Oliver even alive now?"  
  
Angelina and Katie both sent Herminoe scandalized looks, but she was concentrating on Dumbledore's face. "That is a very good, and very wise question," he told her. "The reason that Mr. Wood is alive right now is that Lord Voldemort believes that Oliver Wood has vital information about the Order, and about his own Death Eaters. Now, he could have gotten the information days ago by the Imperius Curse, or by Veritaserum. But either fortunately, or unfortunately, Voldemort prefers to get his information by...the most horrendous pain imaginable."  
  
"And we don't know where he is?" Katie demanded. "He's undergoing torture, and we don't know where he is? Shouldn't we at least be getting out of here? Not that I don't trust his loyalty, but you said that You-Know- Who's torturing him. I think that under normal circumstances with a normal person, we would have already been attacked. Shouldn't we be going to somewhere that Oliver doesn't even know about?"  
  
"Even if Mr. Wood knew where we were, he couldn't betray us. Only one person knows how to give away our position to the enemy, and he would never do that," McGonagall said.  
  
Angelina looked around the room. "Who is it?" she asked curiously. Dumbledore raised his hand and gave a small wave.  
  
"Well now that we know what happened, all we have to do now is get him back, right?" Katie asked with a bright and sunny smile. Her smile dimmed as she looked around at all the glum faces in the room. "Right?" 


	8. Chapter Eight: Hermione and Penelope

A/N: I really have nothing to say here. I honestly don't, and that's a problem, because I usually have some piece of random information that I like to put right here. But I don't. All I can say is that this chapter was stolen from me. I didn't intend on writing the little piece at the end, but somehow or another, that's what my hand wrote out. Interesting isn't it? But I think that it works.  
  
Thanks for all of your reviews! Thelastsimaril: no little sisters. Please.  
  
Disclaimer: The REAL Minister of Magic, J.K. Rowling owns it. I don't.  
  
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The meeting ended on an uncheerful note. Harry felt no better than when he had first sat down. Now he knew what was the matter with Oliver. He just didn't know how to correct it. Ron, Hermione, himself, Fred and George sat down on the bed's in the twins' room. For a second they were silent, and then Ron spoke.  
  
"Well, how was that supposed to help us?" he asked dully, staring at the floor. "I don't see where we can do anything."  
  
"Your point being?" Fred asked Ron tartly. "AT least now we know what kind of trouble Oliver's in."  
  
"No, I understand what Ron's saying," Hermione countered suddenly. 'It's true that we know what kind of trouble he's in. But does that really help us? Sure, we know where to start looking for him, but we can't really help him."  
  
"Sure we can," George argued. "The Order's done some amazing things. Do you think that they can't find a big, bumbling buffoon like Wood?"  
  
Herminoe wrinkled in nose in distaste. "Tell me, is there anything that you two DO take seriously?" she asked disdainfully.  
  
Fred and George thought for a moment with serious expressions on their faces. And then they simultaneously smiled and shook their heads. "No," they said in unison, cracking identical mischievous grins.  
  
Hermione sighed in frustration and pent-up anger. "Don't you two get it?" Fred and George automatically wiped their grins off their faces and stared in fear at Hermione. Her eyes were bright, and her face was red with rage and irritation at the twins. "Do you understand? Oliver is dying! Voldemort has him, and we can't find out where he is! And even if we do manage to find him, then how do you think that we're going to get him out?" Fred, George, Harry, and Ron stared in fear at Hermione. She had a small tear of anger coming out of her right eye. "Do you understand? Do you get it?"  
  
There was a stunned silence after she had finished. Everyone had gotten used to Harry's frequent outbursts, but this was something else all together. Hermione was typically a quiet, gentle, bookworm. She was not prone to yell and rage. Harry, leaned forward, made a steeple with his fingers, and cleared his throat.  
  
"Do you feel better getting that off your chest there Hermione?" Harry asked softly. Hermione looked around. She had a slightly flustered and guilty look.  
  
"I'm a whole new person," Hermione said, pushing back her bushy hair behind her ear. She cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows. Fred, George, and Ron were still looking in terror at her. "Be that as it may I really don't feel that much better, and Oliver's still missing."  
  
Angelina, Alicia and Katie came into the room. Katie sat on the floor and Fred made room on his bed for Angelina and Alicia. "What was all the shouting about?" Katie asked curiously.  
  
Ron looked nervously at Hermione. "Ummm...Hermione got a little touchy," he said. Angelina noticed that Ron inched a little bit away from Herminoe after he said that. Herminoe coloured a little bit, but managed to meet the three Chaser's curious looks. Angelina shook her head. Fred narrowly missed being hit in the face by one of her long braids.  
  
"What I'm curious about is this," Angelina said, nervously jiggling her foot. "How does the Order think that we can help? I mean, I can definitely understand Fred and George, they're part of the Order already. And I can even understand me and Alicia. We're of age, and know enough magic to be useful in a fight. But I don't understand why Harry, Ron, Hermione and Katie are here. They know of the Order, but Mrs. Weasley won't let them join."  
  
"That's what I was saying before," Herminoe said, gleefully pointing at Angelina. "We can't really help to find him and rescue him. So why are we here?" Alicia bit her lip, tapped her toe on the floor, sighed, and then hesitantly spoke.  
  
"I don't think that we're supposed to help find him or rescue him," she said, not making eye contact with anyone else in the room. "I think...I think we're supposed to help with what comes afterward."  
  
The eight teenagers sat silently, pondering over this new thought.  
  
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Harry and Ron were sitting in Ron's room later that night. Ron was idly scratching behind Pig's head. Harry was reading a page out of Flying With The Cannons. But Harry hadn't turned a page of the book for fifteen minutes. They were both caught up in their own thoughts.  
  
"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked finally. Ron started, and then looked at Harry.  
  
"She said something about something that she had to write," Ron muttered. "Probably schoolwork. Mental," he sighed to himself.  
  
"Speak of the devil," Harry said under his breath as Hermione burst into the room. He idly wondered whether or not Hermione ever knocked when entering a room.  
  
"Harry, can I borrow Hedwig for a short time?" Hermione asked. She spoke in her normal voice, an excited pant.  
  
"What for?" Harry asked in a bored tone. He was feeling tired. He had not slept well after his nightmare. He hadn't slept well in almost a year. He lazily turned to look at Hermione.  
  
Was that his imagination, or did Hermione suddenly look uncomfortable? She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and swallowed. "It's nothing special," she stammered. "I just wanted to send a letter to my parents. You know, the Muggle postman doesn't come here so owl's the only way to get a letter delivered. My parents asked me to keep in touch with them. So I need to borrow Hedwig to send a letter to my parents." She paused, and then didn't talk. She silence soon became uncomfortable. Hermione looked at the floor and then back at Harry. "Look, Harry, if you don't want to let me borrow her, just say so," Herminoe finally said.  
  
"No, no, you can borrow her," Harry said. 'I think that's she's on the perch in the kitchen." Hermione left and Harry turned back to Ron.  
  
"What was that about?" Ron asked. He looked absolutely flabbergasted. "Who was that, and what have they done with Hermione?"  
  
"I think she's a bit worked up, yeah," Harry said. Why did all the girls get worked up over Oliver? He'd always thought that Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Hermione were reasonable people not given to foolish whims and fancies. Why did they always melt around Oliver Wood? But then again, he was older, and had an accent. Maybe it was the accent.  
  
"I think it's the accent," Ron murmured.  
  
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Hermione ran down the stairs. She burst into the kitchen and ran past Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Hedwig was sitting on a perch beside the sink. She irritably opened one eye at Hermione's noisy entrance and then slept again.  
  
"Hermione, do you need anything?" Mr. Weasley asked as he took a mug of tea from his wife.  
  
'I just came to get Hedwig," Hermione said, smiling a very bright smile and backing up towards the sink. She scooped up Hedwig, who gave an indignant hoot, and then backed up towards the stairs. "I'm just sending a letter to my parents," she called back to them as she ran up the stairs.  
  
Mrs. Weasley took a long sip of tea. "She seems a bit wound up," she commented lightly to Mr. Weasley.  
  
"Indeed Molly," he murmured as he sipped his own tea.  
  
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Hermione walked into Ginny's room and locked the door behind her. She hated lying to people but she didn't think that Harry, Ron, or Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would approve of what she was doing. She sat Hedwig down on the desk. Hedwig ruffled her feathers and glared angrily at Hermione.  
  
Hermione folded her letter and put it into the envelope. She sealed it and then picked up a quill to address the envelope. She hesitated, and then wrote the name on the parchment. "Mr. Percy Weasley,' she whispered as she wrote the name out. She tied the letter to Hedwig's leg.  
  
"I need you to take this to Percy, all right?" she asked the snowy owl. Hedwig looked coolly at her, and then flapped out the window. "Thank you!" Hermione yelled after Hedwig. The owl was soon out of her sight. Hermione sighed and slumped into chair at the desk.  
  
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Percy Weasley paced around his flat. It had been over a day since he had sent the letter off. he was plagued by unknowns. Had the letter reached Hermione? Did she open it, and decide to ignore it? Or did she draft a response? Was an owl going to fly into the apartment any second now?  
  
He growled in irritation and fell back on his bed. He buried his face in the pillows and waited until it felt like he couldn't breath before he pulled his face out of the pillows. He lay spread-eagled on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The plaster lines swam through his vision. he massaged his temples and closed his eyes. He had a killer headache.  
  
His headache tripled when he heard the loud pounding on his door. He groaned and rolled out of the bed. He stumbled to the door and wrenched it open. Penelope Clearwater was standing in front of him. Percy immediately straightened up. The back of his neck suddenly flamed with embarrassment. His apartment was not the cleanest place in the world, and most of the mess was visible from the doorway. And Percy was suddenly aware that his hair was uncombed, and that his clothes were wrinkled. It was not how he would have chosen to meet with his former girlfriend.  
  
"Penelope," Percy said softly, running his fingers through his hair. He leaned against the doorway, trying to act casual. He folded his arms and looked at her. "How've you been?" he asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.  
  
"I've been well, thank you," she said coolly. She lifted her chin definitely, and looked him in the eye. Her ginger coloured hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was not wearing her wizard robes. She was wearing a Muggle business suit and sensible black shoes. "How are you?"  
  
"I can't complain," Percy said thickly. He nodded at her, and raised his eyebrows. "You look good," he told her.  
  
"I wish that I could say the same thing for you," Penelope said, a hint of warmth creeping into her voice. "Percy, have you slept at all the past two weeks?"  
  
"To be quite honest, I don't know," Percy said, running his hand over his forehead and down his face. "How're you doing?"  
  
"I'm fine," she said. "As a matter of fact I was just promoted to the Assistant Manager at Flourish and Blotts."  
  
'That's good," Percy stammered, at a loss of things to say. When they were going out, they could always find something to talk about. How come their conversations were so short and stilted when they were broken up? "Not to be rude, but why are you here?" Percy said bluntly.  
  
"This might sound like a stupid reason for coming over, but I lent you some books seven months ago, and I need them back." She blushed and looked at the floor. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" she finally asked.  
  
"Oh yeah. Come on in," he said, stepping backwards and holding the door open for her. She walked in, and immediately went for his bookshelf. She knelt down and removed four thick books from the bottom shelf. She stood up and staggered a little bit under the weight. She stumbled towards the door and stopped at the coat-rack.  
  
"Percy, that's my scarf," she said, indicating a multi-coloured scarf that was hanging on a peg. Percy took it off of the coatrack. Penelope lifted her chin and he placed it on top of her books. She opened the door with her foot and walked into the hallway.  
  
Percy followed her down the hallway and opened the door to the stairs. She walked past him without a word, and then turned to look at him. "It was good seeing you," she said with a small smile. Percy nodded without saying anything.  
  
She went down the first set of stairs. Percy waited for a second before running down after her. She looked up at him curiously. "I've missed you," he said simply. Penelope gave him a sad smile, nodded, and walked down the smile. Percy waited for a few minutes until he heard the door below open and close.  
  
He turned and walked slowly up the stairs. He opened the door and let it swing shut behind him. He slogged to his flat and stood at the door before entering. His flat seemed even emptier than it usually was. He breathed in deeply, wondering if he could catch a whiff of Penelope's perfume. It might still be lingering in the air. He caught a faint hint and smiled. feeling slightly better, he walked into his bedroom and fell asleep.  
  
In the morning when Percy went out into his kitchen, Hedwig was sitting on the counter perch beside Hermes. 


	9. Chapter Nine: Remembering

A/N: After a long absence, I have finally come back!! And even better now, I have a LAPTOP! Well, actually, it's the one that the school let me have back, but I don't care. It's my own child, and I have it back. And while we were in line, this one PUNK tried to get in front of me to get his laptop first. Let's just say that the people with me in the line saw a mother lift a fifty ton tank off of her child today, if you get my meaning. ;)

Anyway. Onto the neglected story!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: I don't even own the laptop that this is typed on. Do you think that I could actually make such a ridiculous claim as to OWN Harry Potter???? Garr.

Percy eagerly tore open the letter from Hedwig. He was not surprised to see Hermione's neat cursive addressing the envelope. He tore open said envelope, and several sheets of parchment fell out. He picked them up. In a fit of courtesy, Hermione had even labeled the sheets in an effort to make his reading easier. Percy perused through the first one, his eyes skimming for any mention of Oliver.

What he saw was not encouraging. She had written down almost the entire meeting, and left very little to his imagination. Percy was left with a sense of defeatism when he read what she had to say. Oliver was with the Death Eaters, no one knew where, and it was very unlikely that they could manage to get him even if they did know where he was. Percy threw the letters onto the table and rubbed his temples.

Hermes flew into the window and hooted loudly, waking Hedwig. Hedwig looked angrily at the screech owl before fluffing her feathers and slipping into sleep again. Hermes hooted again, this time with a sense of urgency. Percy looked out the window, and then at his watch which he had left on the table. The watch and his own sense of time told him that he was a deadly fifteen minutes late for work with his job as Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic. He was late for the Minister of Magic.

Percy threw on a set of robes. It might have been the robes that he had worn yesterday; they might not have been. It didn't really matter. He shoved some spare Knuts into his pockets and ran out of the flat. He muttered the incantation to lock his door, and then walked down the stairs. While he was halfway down the stairs he Disapparated, leaving no trace that a red-haired man with horn-rimmed glasses had ever even entered the apartment building.

Angelina and Katie took out their brooms and half-heartedly mounted them. They were in no mood for flying, but with Harry, Fred, George, Ron, and Bill they had enough to make a Quidditch team. Charlie's arm was still too badly burned for his mother to allow him to play Quidditch. He was referring.

Angelina took careful aim and lobbed the Quaffle down the field to Katie. Katie spun around the goals several times before aiming carefully for the right hand goal. Ron flew over to block it. Katie released the Quaffle. Ron shot forward to grab the Quaffle. But Katie had put a spin on her throw, and at the last second the Quaffle spun to the left, shooting into the middle goal for the mandatory 10 points. Katie punched the air in delight and soared down the field.

"It was a very near miss," Hermione said comfortingly to Ron as they all walked in the Burrow for brunch. Mrs. Weasley loaded plates in front of them, the eggs and scones practically falling off of the table. Harry ate his food without really tasting it. He was thinking of the dream he had experienced the night before.

It was the dream that he kept on having. This was probably the sixth time that he could remember. It had started just after Sirius...it had started just after it happened. Unlike most of Harry's dreams, it was not terrifying, or violent. Instead, it was just him and Sirius, sitting and talking together. Sometimes they were on the lake at Hogwarts, sometimes they were on the Quidditch pitch, and sometimes they were just in a room together. But wherever he was, Harry always had the same feeling: he felt loved and he felt protected. It was the next best thing to having his parents back. But he always woke up from the dream. Always.

Harry turned the dream over in his mind, the wonderful feeling of having a parent close by...He wondered if Ron ever got used to the feeling of knowing that there would always be someone close by who would wipe your nose when you had dirt on it, and check to make sure that you had clean underwear. All the thinking of dreams made him turn to the dream that he had where he had seen Oliver and Voldemort together. The details were harder to grasp now, but they were still there...they were so close...Harry just wished that he could reach out and snatch the little buggers. Voldemort had been threatening the Order...he had already killed someone...who had he killed? Harry thought for a few more seconds, and then he remembered.

Ron was a little startled when Harry banged his fist so hard on the table that his glass of milk fell over. Hermione and Ginny jumped at least three feet in their seats. Harry had a crazed, urgent look in his eyes. "Where's Dumbledore?" he asked breathlessly, standing up and leaning over the table towards Mrs. Weasley. She staggered back a few steps in fright at the wild-eyed teenager. Harry looked almost like Sirius had when he had just escaped from Azkaban.

"I don't know," she stammered, setting the extra bacon down on the table. "Harry dear, what's wrong?"

"I need to speak to Dumbledore," Harry insisted, gripping the table tightly. Hermione looked down and saw that the veins on Harry's hands were showing and his knuckles were white. "I _need_ to speak to Dumbledore," Harry said again, putting special emphasis on the word need.

"What's wrong Harry?" Hermione asked. Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Katie all stared down at their plates. Katie was so tired of feeling out of place in these situations. She should ask for a disclaimer first: if anyone was going to have any outbursts, or bring up any family situations, there should be a small sticker that the person would have to wear. Then Katie would just know to stay out of his or her way.

"It's Oliver," Harry gasped. Every head in the table snapped up at the mention of Oliver. Harry felt somewhat uncomfortable at having all eyes on him, but he continued on regardless. "It's not Oliver exactly, but it has to do with him. It's his parents. I think they're dead."

Oliver lay flat on his back in the small room. His eyes were accustomed to the dark now. He felt that if he had to go outside, then he would go blind from all the light. He had to breathe slowly, from deep in his belly. It was the only way he could breathe without screaming in agony. He knew that one of his ribs was broken, if not two. He did not possess the skill to fix ribs. He doubted whether or not he had set his fingers the right way. His hand looked oddly claw-like and shriveled.

His nose itched. He could not summon the strength or the will to bring his uninjured hand up to scratch it. He let out a soft moan as he shifted his weight to lie more comfortably on the hard stone floor. Oliver was so deep in his misery that he did not hear the small click of the lock that meant that someone was now in the room with him. "Sod off," Oliver rasped. If it was Malfoy, or Flint, or even Voldemort himself...they couldn't hurt him anymore than he already was, though perhaps that wasn't true. He had thought that before Malfoy had decided to dribble him like one of those basketballs that Harry had mentioned.

"Stupid boy," the familiar voice growled. Oliver could tell that it was a man's voice, very deep, and also very familiar. It irked him, knowing that he knew the person who was speaking; he just didn't know their name. "What have I told you every single time I have seen you? I told you not to annoy the Dark Lord. If you had just stayed calm, and limp, then things might have been different. As it is..." his voice trailed off as he picked up Oliver's hurt hand.

Oliver whimpered as he felt his fingers being prodded and moved around. He bit his lower lip tightly to avoid screaming as the bones scraped against one another with a sound like someone grinding their teeth together. The man took in a deep breath and then let it out. "If nothing else, you have an inordinate amount of courage boy," he complimented, though Oliver felt slighted. "Not everyone could attempt to mend their own broken fingers. All that you needed was knowledge of what you were doing."

Oliver grunted. He had passed his first aid course in Basic Training at Puddlemere United, and he wasn't half bad at it either. He was a lot better than some of the idiots Puddlemere had attracted. He knew how to mend broken bones. Well, perhaps he didn't, but he could fake it extremely well.

The man said nothing as he worked in silence. Oliver was reduced to short pants as the pain in his hand became overwhelming. His eyes were tightly closed and he was biting his lip so hard that he expected blood to start pouring out. The man set his hand back down onto his stomach. Oliver released his lip and quietly sobbed in agony. When he was done with his tears, he took several shaky deep breaths to compose himself.

"Drink this," the man said, uncorking a small vial and holding it to Oliver's lips. Oliver wanted to resist the potion, but he couldn't move his head away. The scent of the potion came to him as he breathed in. It smelled like a clear summer's morning with the scent of the dew still on the grass. Oliver decided that anything that smelled that good couldn't be all bad for you, and opened his mouth obediently. The man's arms supported Oliver as he drank the potion.

As Oliver drank, he could feel his insides knit back together. The pain did not vanish, but it did fade to a point where it was no longer overwhelming. Oliver took in a deep breath, and smiled at the absence of pain. "Now I shall tell you this once more boy," the man said harshly. "Stay with us. Annoying the Dark Lord will only bring about your death faster. He will soon find that you are not necessary to him, and the Dark Lord is not known for keeping useless things around him." Oliver felt fingers running over his forehead and through his matter hair, oddly gentle consider how roughly they had pulled his fingers.

The man slowly rose. Oliver wanted to see him. Oliver had to see him, to know the face, the name of his nameless rescuer. He tried to focus in the dark room that was devoid of any light, but he could not pinpoint an identity. Oliver wanted to beg the man to stay with him. The presence of a comforting spirit was a glorious luxury. He opened his mouth, but he only managed a weak moan. "Who..?" he managed to rasp out before his head lolled on his shoulder and he was sucked into the blissful oblivion of natural sleep.


	10. Chapter Ten: Actual Memory

A/N: Back again, sooner than I was the last time. For future reference: I do not give up on my stories. I have never once given up on a story in my entire life. I occasionally leave them from time to time, but I do not abandon them. The reason it took me so long to update was because my computer broke, but also because I could not, I COULD NOT think of anything to put down. So I just shoved my disk into a drawer and walked away from this for a while until I felt better about it. I get in these moods when I can't write, and when I have writer's block. It makes me grumpy.

And I'm sorry about the spacing. I'm working on it, I really am, for some reason my laptop won't translate it onto Fanfiction. Don't ask me why. Please bear with me until I find something that works-I'm not trying to make it hard to read!

Disclaimer: Writing in my World History class. It should tell you that I don't own it. That and the little copyright sign.

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Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat with Harry. He was the only one sitting on the couch. He felt quite alone, seeing as how Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, Hermione, Ron, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were standing behind Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley had Apparated to Mr. Weasley at work, and he had immediately come home.

Mrs. Weasley patted Harry's knee in a comforting way. The touch was soft, yet it provided enough strength for Harry to look up from the patched, frayed rug and to look into Mrs. Weasley's loving eyes. "Harry dear, what do you remember about Oliver's parents?"

"It was in my dream," Harry said in a wooden voice. "I just remembered something about Voldemort," all of the Weasley's made a small flinch, like someone had raised their fist suddenly right beside them, "and he was saying something about Oliver's parents. He was saying that he had to expend more effort than was necessary on Oliver's parents, and that he hoped that this would make Oliver cooperate. And then he threatened his friends."

"Oh," Alicia said softly. She had never met Oliver's parents, but she had seen pictures of them in Oliver's room. It was when the Gryffindor Quidditch team was having one of their all-night parties. This time Oliver had drawn the lucky straw. Percy had yelled and yelled until his throat was hoarse, but he eventually subsided with his screaming. About two in the morning, Percy had even joined in with them in some of their wilder games. Despite everything else, Alicia smiled in fondness of the memories that she would cherish from her days at Hogwarts.

Mrs. Weasley cried out softly and clapped her hand over her mouth. Mr. Weasley squeezed her shoulder tightly and shook his head. "I think it's time that I called Dumbledore," he said in a heavy voice. No one moved as he reached out for Pig. Errol was asleep, and everyone thought it best not to disturb him. Hedwig was upstairs, recovering from her journey to Hermione's parents. Mr. Weasley shook his head after some thought. "What am I thinking?" he asked himself, before he walked outside of the house and Disapparated.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head and got up from the sofa. She went into the kitchen and began to make tea. She stared blankly at the kettle until it whistled. She mechanically brought out the small cups. Everyone took one without enthusiasm. Katie was the first one to speak.

"How could someone do something like that?" she asked, in a voice that trembled. She sniffed, and her eyes grew bright and red, but she did not cry. "I mean, how could someone just...kill someone...for no good reason? How could they do that?" Angelina bit her lip and stared fixedly at the carpet while Alicia ran the heel of her hand across her eyes.

"I don't know," Bill said hollowly. "How can Voldemort do anything? How could he kill people just for fun? Or because he's bored? I don't know. I don't think that anyone does." Katie sniffed again, and George patted her arm and then rubbed her back gently.

Harry still sat alone. Now more than ever, he felt like an outsider. The normal people were enjoying their sensations of grief, while he was the pariah of the Weasley family. Oh, they included him in everything they did. The exclusion was more of a mental exclusion. He still had not told anyone about the prophecy about him and Voldemort. The prophecy was the thing that was excluding him. He was slowly separating himself from normal, everyday society. The separation was not something that he was doing consciously. He wanted to end the slow parting from Ron and Hermione, from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, from his life that he had led. He wanted nothing more than to forget about the prophecy, about Sirius, about Cedric, and enjoy eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans with Ron while Hermione did her homework and muttered about how disgusting boys were. But instead he was drifting away from them. It was like the Muggle science class he was in when he was ten and they showed the Earth breaking apart. The continents slowly drifting apart reminded him of his life and the gradual splitting that he had with Ron and Hermione. They didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

Harry was pushed into a deep depression. He was so consumed by his small internal dialogue that he didn't hear Ron calling his name. he only snapped out of his mind when Fred jogged his knee. "Harry," Ron called out as if from a great distance. Harry violently shook his head and looked around. Everyone was watching him with a look of great concern on his or her face.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, trying to look like he hadn't been dozing off. No one was fooled.

"We were just asking you if you remembered anything else about the dream," Hermione said with her usual bluntness. "Anything at all-how long ago it was, whether or not his parents really are dead-"

"They might not be dead!" Katie exclaimed happily. "We've been doing all this worrying, and they might be all right! Vol-Voldemort doesn't have to tell the truth! He could be lying, we all know that he's done it before! There's no reason that his parents can't be sitting at home."

Everyone nodded and seemed to feel heartened by this suggestion. Alicia laughed softly and rubbed her chin. Angelina nodded furiously, as if her fervor could make it true. Fred and George hit each other on the arm. Hermione nodded slowly, looking like she was having an internal argument with herself. Harry felt a weight being lifted off of his chest. Voldemort lied. He did it all the time. There was no reason now that he wasn't lying to convince Oliver to cooperate with him. Oliver's parents were probably in their small house in Scotland, just settling down to afternoon tea.

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Dumbledore, Tonks, Kingsley, and Mr. Weasley all sat inside a small private room inside the Minsitry. Though Dumbledore was no longer disgraced, there were some that were incredibly loyal to Fudge that looked askance at Dumbledore, as if wondering how he could have had the nerve to enter. Kingsley sighed and tugged lightly on his golden earring.

"Well, it seems obvious what we must do," Mr. Weasley said. "We have to go see if Mr. and Mrs. Wood are truly dead."

"We'll need more than just us," Kingsley brought up. "The Death Eaters might still have the house under surveillance. Of course, that's if they were really there."

"We should have been watching that house from the beginning," Tonks said regretfully. "We should have had our people crawling all over it."

"There's nothing we can do about that now," Dumbledore brought up. The tone of his voice was light, but his blue eyes were troubled with guilt. "Kingsley, get a team together and go to the house. Be very careful." As the Aurors and Mr. Weasley walked out of the room, Dumbledore shook his head and took off his small, half-moon glasses. "We don't want someone else to be killed," he added as an afterthought.

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Tonks, Kingsley, Lupin, Sturgis Podmore (now released from Azkaban, and with a full pardon) Apparated in front of the small house. It was an old house, and made out of stone. The damp smell of rain was heavy on the air. The four wizards looked up at the house without saying anything.

"Well, should we go in?" Tonks asked after looking up at the house for a few minutes. Lupin shrugged and walked forward.

"I don't see why not," he said, going up to the door and knocking firmly. The door swung open under his knock. A small spike of foreboding hit his heart. Lupin looked at everyone else. They made no move, but he could see his concern reflected in their own eyes. He swallowed, shrugged, pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked in.

The door creaked quietly behind him as he stepped into the small house. The windows had been left open, and the curtains wafted in on a gentle breeze. He stepped further into the little kitchen. There were no signs of a struggle there. The dishes had been put in the sink. As a matter of fact, a tiny sponge was half-heartedly scrubbing away at a particularly dirty pan. "Mr. Wood?" Lupin called out, straining his ears and his body forward. "Mrs. Wood? It's the Order. Is anyone home? Hello?" he took several cautious steps forward.

He turned around, wand at the ready when he heard a loud clattering. Tonks put a metal pan back where it was and looked abashedly at Kingsley, Podmore, and Lupin. "Sorry," she whispered, her cheeks flaming red. She ran her hand self-consciously through her hair (medium length black today) and followed everyone else. The small party came to the sitting room door. Lupin tried the knob, but found out that the door was locked.

"Aloharoma!" Kingsley whispered, sending out a small jet of golden light. The door swung open a tiny bit. Lupin pushed it the rest of the way and entered into the sitting room. The room smelled like toast and for some odd reason, cats. It smelled like the house of elderly people. Lupin could feel himself relaxing as he looked through the sitting room. The Woods were fine. They had probably just stopped to go out somewhere. Still, he should probably look through the rest of the house, just in case.

"Search the rest of the house," he ordered, looking around the sitting room. He walked forward a few paces to where two chairs faced the wall. He spun them around, and jumped back with a cry of horror.

The Woods were sitting in their chairs, obviously dead. Mr. Wood's hand was poised to take his wand out of his robes, while Mrs. Wood had just died sitting upright with an expression of outright terror on her face. Tonks, Podmore, Kingsley, and Mr. Weasley could not pull their eyes away from the dreadful sight. For a few minutes there were no sounds, just the empty echoing rasping of their shallow breaths.

"We...we need to get out of here," Tonks finally said. "We need to tell Dumbledore what's happened." Mr. Weasley nodded and then realized that no one could hear his nod.

"You're right," he addressed Tonks. "We're going to need to tell Ron and the others. It's going to break their hearts." He sadly shook his head and walked out of the room. Podmore grabbed his elbow.

"What are we going to do with...with those?" he asked, jerking his head back towards the sitting room. "We can't just leave them there."

"It's not up to me," Mr. Weasley said, sparing a glance backwards. "We need to tell Dumbledore first. Then we'll find out what we do next."

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Percy was walking down the corridor at the Ministry of Magic. Even very important wizards within the Ministry occasionally felt the call of nature. He was concentrating on his feet and not looking up at the people passing him. The first time he looked up was when he accidentally ran into someone. Percy glanced up then to see who he almost run over. He stepped back in shock when he realized that it was his father.

Mr. Weasley looked at his son with surprise that mirrored Percy's own. This was the first time that they had come face to face in many months. Now that he was finally faced with a member of his family, Percy didn't know what to do. All of his carefully rehearsed phrases had gone out of his head. All of his suave "Hello Dad, Mum. How are you today?" and all of his apologies: gone.

There was something in Percy's eyes, Mr. Weasley reflected to himself. There was no longer the cold disdain and the careful distance that he had kept. There was something in his eyes that signaled that he wanted to serve penance for what he had done. Mr. Weasley almost grabbed Percy and enveloped him in a huge hug. Almost. But then the memory of what Percy had done to Molly and to his entire family hit him. He merely nodded cordially. "Hello Percy," he greeted his son. He greeted him almost the way that he would say hello to a person that he barely knew.

Percy felt a huge ripping begin in his chest. His father was not going to forgive him. And he was going to keep on standing here and staring at his father like a big idiot. Percy tried to force himself to speak. His throat was suddenly dry and it felt like his tongue had been glued to the roof of his mouth. Perhaps a Silencing Spell has been put on me, Percy mused to himself while he was trying to talk.

Before either one of them could say anything, a door opened on the side. "Arthur? You wished to speak with me?" Percy turned around to see the figure of his former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Nothing had changed about the old man. The silver hair and beard were still the same, and the half-moon glasses were still perched on his nose.

Percy finally found his voice and spoke. "Headmaster," he stammered out. "Headmaster Dumbledore." Dumbledore did not seem that surprised to see Percy with his estranged father.

"Good morning Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said pleasantly. He cordially nodded his head and then turned to Arthur Weasley. "Arthur, if you'll come along." Without a backward glance to his son, Arthur walked through the door to one of the meeting rooms. Percy stayed outside, feeling lost and forlorn. His father had not made a move to reconcile with him. His worst fears had been realized: his family did not want to make up with him. They no longer wanted him in their lives.

Percy shook his head. He sniffled a little bit before he reminded himself that it wasn't dignified. Setting his shoulders firmly, Percy swallowed and walked back out into the Ministry of Magic.

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The Pensieve glowed faintly in the darkness of his cell. Its silver light illuminated his hands. Oliver saw his body for the first time in over a month. He was painfully thin and he had cuts all over his hands and arms. His black robes had dark crimson stains on them in random places. "Look here boy," Voldemort's cold voice ordered. "Do you know see what happens to fools who meddle with the Dark Lord?"

Oliver did not want to look but he did anyway; some magic or his own desire to know forced him to look. The Pensieve glowed brighter silver for a second before some figures leapt up out of the deep bowl. The figures were undefined at first, and then their outlines grew sharper and clearer. There were three Death Eaters, easily distinguishable by their dark hoods and robes. The Death Eaters grew larger and larger as did the entire vision or memory. Oliver felt like he was lying on the ground and that the Death Eaters were walking right past him.

The Death Eaters came to a small house. Oliver cried out in horror as he recognized his parent's small house in Scotland. "No! Mum! Da!" Oliver groaned as Voldemort kicked him.

"Watch," Voldemort said in delighted amusement. It came to Oliver that he was seeing this through the eyes of a Death Eater. This was not something that Voldemort had concocted to torment him. This was an actual memory. This nightmare had occurred.

The Death Eaters came into his house. Oliver started to moan in agony as he recognized the familiar kitchen and hallway. He could hear the light chatter. His parents always sat in front of the fireplace before going to bed. The vision glided across the floor. The lead Death Eater pointed his wand at the door. The door effortlessly opened. Oliver saw his parents sitting and talking before-

A shot of green light blasted out of the Death Eaters wand. Oliver could hear the fatal words above his own screaming. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" The vision went back into the Penseive with a flash of bright green light. Oliver was still screaming.

"NOOOO!" he cried out in anguish. "Oh please no! Merlin, no!"

"Be silent!" Voldemort commanded, his amusement suddenly gone like a passing wind. "Stupid boy, be quiet!" Oliver continued to scream and Voldemort lost what little patience he had. "Crucio!" A jet of red light hit Oliver in the stomach. The pain silenced his screams. When Voldemort finally took his wand away Oliver was silent. The only sounds in the quiet room were his rasping sobs.

"Now you know what happens to those who incur the wrath of the Dark Lord," Voldemort said quietly. "Let's see whom you hold most dear among your little friends, eh?" Oliver tried to block his mind but Voldemort's magic was too strong. Images flew out of his mind and swirled around the room, bright and as beautiful as exotic birds.

The images ran across, past and through each other, each a small memory from Oliver. They all blended together in a crescendo of noise and colour, until one stopped. The other visions ceased to exist as this one grew until it took up one wall of the small cell.

It was at Hogwarts, Oliver knew that right when it started. It was near the Quidditch pitch; he could see the bright green grass waving in the sun. he closed his eyes in horror as he heard the familiar voices approach.

"Katie, just try this," George pleaded. "Please darling Kay-tay?" It was Fred and George's pet name for Katie. "It's going to be all right, trust me." He looked innocently at Katie as she looked at the small sweet in his hands. Fred and George smiled evilly as they saw Katie wavering.

"Katie, don't do it," Alicia cautioned. She was walking somewhat apart from Fred, George, Angelina, and Katie. That was the way that she always was. Though she adored the rest of the Quidditch team, she was not quite one of them. "You know what's happened before, don't take it."

"Oh, what harm can it do?" Katie asked before she took the sweet. "Tastes good," she mumbled. Fred and George turned away as they began to snicker. Angelina stared at Katie's forehead in horror. Large pimples had begun to spread all across her forehead and face.

"Oh dear," Oliver heard himself say. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry run up and then recoil in horror. Katie began to realize that something was wrong. She brought out a mirror and then screamed. Fred and George turned around and began to run as Katie started chasing after them.

"No, Kay-tay, please!" George cried out as Katie tackled him and began pummeling him. "We have the antidote! We have it right here!" Katie ripped the sweet out his hands and swallowed it. George panted in relief as Katie felt her pimples disappear.

The vision faded into black. "How touchingly disgusting," Voldemort said. "Those juveniles do not deserve to live." He shook his head. "Harry Potter was there. Harry Potter..." he mused to himself. "Do not anger me again, or these too will die."

Voldemort swept out of the cell, leaving Oliver alone. Oliver curled into himself, shaking with sorrow and despair. He could not tell Voldemort what he knew, but he could not refuse to tell him anything at all. He was stuck in a deplorable situation. He just wished that his Mum was there...but she would never be there again...

Oliver began to sob as he realized just how much Voldemort had taken from him.


	11. Chapter Eleven: Revelations in Dreams

A/N: Welcome back dear readers. First off (sigh) I would just like to say that I'm sorry for killing Oliver's parents. (Another sigh) But I don't randomly kill people and I spent about five minutes agonizing over whether or not to kill them, and I finally decided that a plot line of my story hinged upon them being murdered by Voldemort. Those of you who called me a mean author (you know who you are! I could see most of you calling me a mean author.) Know that I thought long and hard about it and I do not randomly kill people in my stories. It provides angst. (Author checks the genre) Yep. Angst is up there. And I do want to hug Oliver. (Longing sigh) I'm going to marry that boy.

Enjoy your next chapter! Alicia is quite significant in this chapter. She's actually based exactly on someone that I know from my volleyball team. So forgive me if I have a soft spot for Alicia, because my Alicia is based on one of the people that I would just love to be. Thank you!

Disclaimer: For goodness sakes. Do I ever have to do this anymore? It's stupid. The thing up at the top of the page says Which means that I don't own it.

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It had been a bad night. Mr. Weasley had come home; looking like his entire world had ended. It was right then that Bill and Charlie knew what had happened. Bill and Charlie went to join their parents in the next room. Everyone else knew what had happened when they heard Mrs. Weasley's grief-filled shriek. She came out of the room with her hand clapped over her mouth and tears streaming down her face.

Hermione whimpered softly. Ron put his arm around her and held her close. Angelina clenched her fist and looked down at her knees to keep herself from crying. She felt a pressure on her hand and looked carefully at it. Fred's hand was gently gripping hers, giving oceans of comfort, worlds of comfort.

The friends had stayed in the room for the rest of the afternoon. When asked if they needed to go manage the shop, George had shaken his head. "We've got Lee taking care of the shop for a few days," he whispered hoarsely. Katie sniffed and nodded.

It was Angelina who finally broke their long silence. "I can't do this anymore," she announced brokenly, standing up and stumbling backwards. "I'll be up in Ginny's room," she explained as she went up the stairs. They watched Angelina disappear.

"I think I'm going to join her," Ginny sniffed. She followed Angelina up the stairs, ignoring Ron's calls after her, asking if she was all right.

The others still sat on the overstuffed sofa. The cozy Weasley house suddenly felt claustrophobic and cramped. Harry felt like the crocheted pillows were getting ready to jump off the couch and strangle him. "I think that I'm going to turn in," George volunteered, slowly getting up and walking to the room he shared with Fred. Fred stood up right after his twin.

"As George goes, so goes my nation," he said lamely before running up the stairs. Alicia, Katie, Hermione, Harry and Ron listened to their door slam. Alicia sighed and bit her lip. She wiped a stray tear out of her eyes.

"I think....I'm just going to go somewhere else," she said before walking outside. "I just need to be alone right now."

"Alicia, be careful out there!" Katie called after her. "Don't go too far out of bounds!" Her last words were spoken as Alicia closed the door behind her. Katie awkwardly sat on the couch. "Well. I think I'm going to go up with Angelina," she said as she excused herself. She left Hermione, Ron, and Harry sitting alone on the couch.

Harry felt worse than he did earlier. Oliver's parents were dead and it was all his fault. How many more people would die because of him? How many more funerals would he have to attend before his final destiny with Voldemort came to pass? Would he have to watch all of his friends die? Would he have to watch Ron and then Hermione go through the pain and agony of the torture that Voldemort could inflict on a person? Harry bit his lip as his inner thoughts became darker and darker.

Hermione sat between the two boys. Her thoughts were dwelling on the last time she had seen Oliver. It was at the farewell feast at Harry's third year. Everyone had given Oliver credit for their third House Cup victory. The credit was richly deserved. He had led the Quidditch team to the Cup, which had earned Gryffindor's points enough to win the House Cup. Hermione sadly sniffed. Things had changed so much from their carefree third year. They were in sixth year now, going to school in a world where Voldemort had risen again.

"I didn't even know them," Harry finally said hoarsely. Ron and Hermione looked pityingly at him. "I never met his parents; the most I ever saw of them was a photograph in his room. But they're dead and it's because of me." He looked piercingly at Ron and Hermione. "How can I kill someone that I don't even know?"

"Harry, that's not true!" Hermione said in a shocked voice. "You didn't kill them; Voldemort killed them. You could never kill anyone."

_If only she knew,_ Harry thought darkly to himself before continuing. "I as good as killed them Hermione. They're dead because of me. Oliver is in prison because of me. Sirius and Cedric are dead because of me. I have four people's innocent blood on my hands. How much more blood will I have on my hands by the end?"

Hermione shook her head helplessly. She reached over and enveloped Harry in a hug. Harry seized his muscles and then slowly relaxed. He patted her head to comfort her, though he still held true to what he had said before. He had killed Oliver's parents. It was only a matter of time before he killed Oliver.

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Alicia walked outside. She wiped tears out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She sniffed and looked up at the trees. She needed to be alone. If she didn't come in within five minutes then Angelina, Katie, Fred, and George would come looking for her. For once she needed to be completely alone. She quickly climbed the tree to settle among the branches.

She cloaked the entire tree in an Invisibility Shield. Being of age came in handy sometimes-no, all of the time. She hugged her knees close to her chest and rocked herself back and forth. This was her way of grieving. She would go alone and by herself until she felt ready to emerge with the rest of the world. This was her way of handling grief, but Katie and Angelina could never understand it. Katie's grandmother was Irish, so she had been brought up with the idea of the huge Irish wakes to mourn the dead. Angelina's personality was naturally social so she could not understand someone going off alone to be sad. Grief should be shared with others. It was a group event and Alicia did not believe that. When someone else was crying, you should comfort them, but your own misery would be a private affair.

Away from everyone, Alicia started to cry, not so much for Oliver's parents but for Oliver. He had been through so much at school already. He had to lose his parents as well? After all of his hardships and trials? She had been one of the people that he had written to over the summer, and she thought that he had really bared his soul to her. When he first left school he had written about missing Hogwarts and missing Gryffindor. Later he had written about the difficulty of being accepted onto a Quidditch team when there were so many more people that were better than him. Alicia had doubted this but Oliver had always been a perfectionist about Quidditch. Not so much about school, but he was a perfectionist about Quidditch.

And then there were the angry letters. The ones that spoke of the people who had tried to stop his rise to the top. The angriest letter she had ever gotten had been about a year ago. It had been about Marcus Flint, Wood's old rival at school. He had been signed to a team almost the second that he got out from Hogwarts. The team suited him: they were brutal and not known for fair play. Flint had seen Wood one day and had tried to rub his good fortune in Wood's face. Wood had retaliated, and the next letter Alicia had gotten from him had come while he was at home recuperating from a bad beating. He always had been rather hopeless at fights, Alicia thought.

She sniffed once more. Her crying and the events of the day had left her worn out and exhausted. She leaned her head against the tree and was asleep before she knew what had happened.

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"Spinnet! Bell! Johnson! Come here, I want to talk to you!" Alicia sighed and angled her broomstick towards the goals. She landed beneath the goals and watched Oliver spiral down to meet her.

"What does he want now?" Angelina asked as she watched their Captain walk towards them. "I thought we did rather well in practice today."

"You did do rather well, but there were still some things that we need to work on," Oliver said cheerfully, throwing his broomstick over his shoulder. "Bell, you need to work on your acceleration. Your turns are sharp enough but once you turn you can't get anywhere. Spinnet, be a little bit more aggressive. Go for the Quaffle; don't wait for it to come to you. Johnson, please goodness, do not do what you were doing today during practice."

"What was I doing?" Angelina asked, her face a mask of shock. "I was practicing well."

"Johnson, you were waving your arms around in order to tell Bell and Spinnet that you were open. If you want the Quaffle, please open your mouth and yell for it. You have no problem yelling any other time," Oliver said wryly. Angelina glared at him.

"At least she's not like Alicia," Katie finally said, a smile breaking out on her face. "Mine! Mine! Mine!" She and Angelina began chirping dementedly. "Mine! Mine! Mine!" Oliver looked at them strangely while Alicia looked down at the ground trying to hide her blushing face. "That's how she calls the ball!" Katie defended herself.

"I do not!" Alicia whispered, a smile breaking out on her face despite her best efforts. She lightly kicked the ground in protest. "I do not!"

"All right, that's it," Oliver said, smiling at his three Chasers. "Team! Call it in for today!" Harry soared down to the ground while Fred and George looked up guiltily. They slunk past Oliver to the locker rooms. "What were they doing?" Oliver asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. "It's better not to ask," he said before disappearing into the locker rooms. The Keeper and Chasers stayed on the pitch a few more seconds before Katie coughed.

"I have Potions homework, so I'm going to start on that," she announced. "Stupid git Snape..." she walked away, muttering to herself. Angelina said an excuse that sounded about the same and walked off after Katie.

"Mine! Mine! Mine!" she chirped to herself like a demented bird. "Mine! Mine! Mine!" Alicia looked fondly after Angelina before turning back to Oliver.

"Do you have any other homework?" he asked her. She shook her head and started to walk with him. He gathered the Quaffle and locked it in its place in the trunk. She watched him wrestle the Bludgers into the trunk. He checked the balls and bats before locking the trunk. Alicia took one of the handles and walked with him into the locker room. "Thanks for helping," Oliver grunted as he shoved the trunk back into the shelf. He checked once more to make sure that the ball trunk was locked before he swung the cabinet door shut and locked that also.

"It's no problem," Alicia said. She watched Oliver check the lock several times. "Are you obsessive about your locks?" he turned to her and then looked back at the huge lock.

"Maybe a little bit," he admitted. "I wouldn't put it past that bastard Flint to sabotage our balls," he accused. He went on grumbling, much like Katie had. Alicia smiled fondly at him. He looked up at her.

"What?" he asked her in his thick Scottish brogue. "What's the matter with you?"

"You're very amusing," she said, leaning against the lockers and taking down her sweaty hair. "Has there ever been a time in which you have not eaten, drank, or breathed Quidditch?"

Oliver thought seriously. "No," he said truthfully. "So you just think I'm assuming? I'm not sexy? Daring? Dashing? The most gorgeous thing you've ever seen in the entire world?"

Alicia softly laughed. "Let's not go there," she said softly. She could not think of anything else to say, so she just leaned against the lockers. Oliver was used to her quiet ways and they stood in comfortable silence. Oliver changed out of his scarlet robes as did Alicia. She threw on a light jacket to ward off the night chill. They walked out of the locker room in silence.

"What are you going to do, you bonny lass?" he asked her as they came up to the castle doors. Alicia shrugged. Oliver pulled the door open for her and she ducked into the warm hall.

"I have some History of Magic that I should probably do," she admitted, with a nasty look on her face. Four feet Binns had assigned them, and she had been unable to pass three foot eight inches. "You? Wait. You're going to do Quidditch, and Quidditch, and more Quidditch, leaving Percy to explain the homework that you were supposed to do at breakfast. Honestly Wood. You need to do homework."

"I'm not good at it," Wood said defensively as they walked up to the common room. "I'm not smart like you. I play Quidditch. That's what I'm good at. And are you my mother or are you my Chaser?" Alicia conceded a grudging defeat. "And I was actually going to do some homework tonight. Percy has assured me that my grades at History of Magic will not be good enough for me to graduate, so I am doing an essay." He rolled his eyes as he remembered the topic. "It's about famous wizards that have come from northern Russia. What's in northern Russia anyway? Just a lot of ice, isn't it?" His fair face crinkled in confusion as he thought about it.

Alicia laughed softly. "Yes, it's a lot of ice," she assured him. He nodded in satisfaction.

"I thought so. But nothing's there," he clarified as he started up the doors to the boy's dormitories. Alicia called out a soft goodbye. Oliver went into his door. "Couldn't find a single person who's ever been to Northern Russia," he said before closing the door.

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Alicia woke up, nearly falling off the tree. "Alicia!" Katie called. It was night now, and the other Chasers had become worried about their friends. "Alicia, are you here?" Katie called, her voice taking on a sharp tone of worry. "Alicia, this isn't funny! Come out!"

"I'm right here!" Alicia called, before remembering the Invisibility Shield. She quickly jumped down from the tree and walked to Katie. Katie turned around and regarded her with relief.

"Oh thank Merlin," Katie said, gripping her tightly. "We thought that the worst had happened. I know that we have the Secret-Keeper, but you can't be too sure...were you sleeping?"

"A little bit, yes," Alicia admitted, sweeping back her wispy light blonde hair. "I couldn't help it. I was very tired. Although now I'm thinking that sleeping in a tree might not be the best thing to do in the world. I had very strange dreams." She furrowed her brow as she remembered just what she had dreamed.

"What is it?" Katie asked curiously. Alicia shook her head and tucked her arm inside Katie's arm.

"I don't know," she said untruthfully. "Come on. You were right. We can't be too careful out here alone. There's always something out there." As they walked in Alicia was not listening to Katie talk. She had dreamt that for a reason. That dream had a meaning, and she thought that she knew what it meant.

She thought that the dream meant that Oliver was in northern Russia.

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Oliver didn't scream as the bright red lights lanced through his body. After a while he had become used to the pain of the Crutacius Curse. He had become tolerant of it to the point of not screaming. When Voldemort took his wand away, Oliver let his muscles relax. His breaths came out as a sobbing gasp. Voldemort saw his relaxation and immediately attacked.

His curse found the unprotected spot of Oliver's stomach. Oliver screamed and curled up into a ball, but the damage was already done. Voldemort turned his attention to Oliver's head, making Oliver think that his eyelids were going to explode inside their sockets. When Voldemort judged that Oliver was going to pass out if he didn't stop, he took his wand away.

"Is that enough?" he asked softly, standing over the sobbing man. Oliver curled into the fetal position, trying to make his body as small as possible. Voldemort could see his vulnerable position, and he could see that Oliver Wood had just about given up. He no longer cared about living or dying, he just wanted the pain to stop. "Aren't you tired of all this pain? I could make it stop you know. I hold the power of life, death, of pain and pleasure over you. Are you ready to stop yourself? Just say yes. Just tell me a little thing, anything. Just say yes." His voice was soothing and enticing. It was hard for Oliver's mind to refuse that voice, especially when it was making so much sense.

Oliver warred within himself, caught between concern for his friends and concern for himself. Voldemort would kill his friends. Voldemort had already murdered his parents. There was nothing to stop him. Voldemort would go through his friends and family one by one until he had killed them all. The voice began speaking again, the words washing over Oliver. He only recognized the tone: seemingly peaceful and encouraging while hiding a threat underneath the fair words. Oliver opened his mouth and heard his own voice say: "What do you want to know?"

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(Author sits stunned at desk for a moment.) Did I write that? (looks around) Well, no one else is here, so I suppose I did. Don't give in Oliver! Don't give in!

Garr. Here is an update for all of you who were _dying _to get the next chapter.

Until next time!


	12. Chapter Twelve: Professor Snape

A/N: Sorry for the long absence. I feel that it's time for an author's note. Once upon a time there was a poor student who felt that other people should share in the making of her brainchild. So she wrote a story in script format and put it online. The site neglected to tell her that it did not like script format. Someone else told her and she was in the midst of rewriting her story to repost it when the site DELETED her story. It was rather sad for this hypothetical girl. Not only did they delete her story, but they also prevented her from posting elsewhere for a rather long time. And there was much sadness and despair in the girl's room.

Wasn't that story nice? It was rather nice. (deep sigh) Hopefully, no real person will ever have to experience what the horror of that really is. Well. Onto more of the sadistic author torturing her defenseless Keeper.

Disclaimer: Perhaps if I put in a patent on Oliver then everyone would recognize him as mine. You think?

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Voldemort stood delightedly over Oliver. "What did you say?" he asked a malicious grin on his face. Oliver groaned and rolled over so that he would be facing Voldemort's face.

"I said that I would tell you what you wanted to know," Oliver groaned. "Just don't hurt me anymore." A small part of him rebelled at this begging for his life, but the larger part of him screamed out to shut up. if telling Voldemort information would stop him from hurting him, then it was fair.

"Tell me about your little Order," Voldemort softly hissed. "I want to know. Tell me." Oliver nodded and started to speak in a harsh voice.

"There's Dumbledore," Oliver panted out. Voldemort screamed in rage and pointed his wand at Oliver's unprotected stomach. Before Oliver could react a jet of red light had hit him in the stomach.

"Stupid boy, tell me things that I do not know!" Voldemort shrieked. "I will be forced to take drastic measures with you!" He finally brought his wand away and Oliver was able to breathe. Voldemort took a deep breath and tried to control his rage. "Now boy, tell me something new."

Oliver was sobbing in pain and agony. His mind was blabbering, trying to say anything to stop Voldemort from hurting him. "Minerva McGonagall," he gasped out. Voldemort eagerly listened to Oliver's confession of names. "Arthur Weasley," Oliver said, searching his mind for more names. "Severus Snape," he gasped out. He stopped when he said that name. He had just revealed Snape.

"What?" Voldemort shrieked. He ran to the door and flung it open. Marcus Flint peered around the door to see what was the matter. "Bring Severus Snape to me," Voldemort commanded. Oliver tried to get up from the floor. He had this idea that if he could manage to push himself up then all the damage he had just done would somehow disappear. Voldemort pushed him back to the ground with a foot. "How does it feel, knowing that you've betrayed your friends?" Voldemort asked him in a vicious whisper. "They will die and they will die cursing your name."

"No," Oliver said, trying to deny it. "It's not true." Voldemort sneered at him and pushed harder on his feeble chest, crushing the breath out of him.

"Fool," Voldemort scorned him. "Did you think that the Dark Lord had his spies only here? They are all over the Ministry. Your foolish Order might have put a charm on their house, but it doesn't matter. With our sources inside the Ministry, we can find out the location of his house and merely burn the entire countryside to shreds." Voldemort pushed so hard on Oliver's chest that yet another one of his ribs cracked under the pressure.

"Did you think that you, a mere boy, could contend with the will of Lord Voldemort?" Voldemort asked in a rapturous whisper. "There are none who can. Against the Dark Lord there can be no victory, only death."

The door burst open. Severus Snape came in, followed by Marcus Flint. "Yes my Lord?" Snape asked respectfully. Oliver gasped as he recognized the voice. It was the man that had helped him throughout so many trials. Oliver's heart dropped another five feet. He was going to kill the person who had helped him through so much and who had been such a comfort to him.

"Traitor," Voldemort hissed, slowly bringing up his wand and pointing it at Snape's heart. "You have betrayed me once; I shall not allow you to betray me again. Do you know what Lord Voldemort does to those who are unfaithful?" his voice was rising in rage until it was a shrill shriek.

For the first time, Oliver could see fear blanch across Snape's face. He squinted his eyes, trying to see harder in the dim light. "My lord, my only wish is to serve you," he stammered. Voldemort snarled like an animal and took one step forward.

"Liar," he whispered harshly. 'You serve the Muggle-lover and fool, Albus Dumbledore. The boy told me so." He made a gesture towards the hapless Oliver.

Oliver shook his head, trying to soundlessly apologize for what he had done. He did not think that Snape saw him, but he had to apologize. He had to make Snape know that he didn't mean it. He could see Snape's outline relax his shoulders slightly. "The boy is delirious," he said dismissively. "He knows not what he is saying. Doubtless he is trying to spout out any sort of nonsense in order for you to stop hurting him."

"No, he knows what he said," Voldemort said, his voice becoming dangerously low. Snape swallowed hard as he saw a few red sparks shoot out of the end of Voldemort's wand. "You are a traitor, and we have method of ending your ways." Before Snape could react a jet of red light shot out of the wand and hit him in the stomach.

Snape flew back and hit the floor. Marcus Flint stood over him in surprised hatred. He would have never suspected the head of Slytherin House to be a secret spy working for Dumbledore. His former fondness for the Potions Master suddenly disappeared, replaced by a nonchalant abhorrence. He looked at the ceiling in boredom as Snape started to scream.

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Alicia had not been able to sleep the entire night. She had been tossing and turning, trying to find a way to tell Dumbledore where she thought Oliver was without sounding stupid. She could just imagine how it would sound to the world famous wizard: "Oh, excuse me Professor Dumbledore. I just wanted you to know this. I had a dream last night and I believe that Oliver is in northern Russia from this dream. No, I don't have any actual facts to make this assumption known, but I still think it's rather good."

Alicia winced just thinking about it. "Come on, think woman," she urged herself. She had been fairly smart at Hogwarts. There should be a way she could tell Professor Dumbledore about her dream without sounding too idiotic. She got out of bed when the first light touched the window and put on a robe. She ran downstairs to find Professor Dumbledore sitting at the table. It seemed almost as if he was waiting for her.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said breathlessly as she went down the steps. "I didn't expect to find you here this morning."

"I decided to stop by and see how you were doing," he said, smiling as he took another sip of tea. "I must admit, I did feel rather bad taking you away with no real explanation whatsoever."

"Professor Dumbledore," Alicia began before losing her nerve. He merely smiled at her, urging her to continue. As she looked into his kind blue eyes Alicia felt the strength to continue with her question. "Do you trust in dreams? I mean, if you had a dream that told you a message, would you trust it?"

Dumbledore stroked his long silver beard for a few minutes. "Many wizards do not trust the messages they find in dreams, believing them to be misleading and nothing more than the unconscious thoughts of a brain resting. I however, believe that dreams tell us what we truly need to know. It is our brain telling us what we need without being unencumbered by the problems of the modern day."

Alicia took in a deep breath and smiled, feeling at least twenty percent lighter. Professor Dumbledore would believe her. "I had a dream last night," she began before her entire story spilled out in a rush of emotions, words, and images. "It was about Oliver, and it was set at Hogwarts. I don't ever remember what happened in the dream, which makes me think that it wasn't a memory. I think it was Oliver trying to tell me something. He kept on mentioning Northern Russia. I think he's in Northern Russia."

Professor Dumbledore slowly nodded. "I think you might be correct in your assumption Ms. Spinnet," he said lowly. "We will have to get the rest of the Order here of course, but soon we will be able to make an attempt to rescue poor Mr. Wood. Goodness knows it is about time."

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Oliver winced again as he heard another dull thump. Snape was now getting the treatment that he himself had received many a time. Lord Voldemort did not deal kindly with those who vexed him. Oliver felt himself automatically curling up into a fetal position as he heard the screams that were coming from the cell next to his. Snape was getting the torture that was rightfully his. Though he hated himself for his betrayal, a tiny part of his mind rejoiced that another was receiving the torment instead of him.

There was a final, loud scream and then nothing. Oliver gasped and shuddered, thinking the worse. Snape had been killed or had died from the enormous amount of pain that he was going through. Oliver instinctively drew away from the small sliver of light that came through the door. He heard the loud, echoing footsteps coming towards him. He looked up to see the sneering face of Lord Voldemort.

"Now you will see what happens to those who defy Lord Voldemort," Voldemort said with an evil smirk. "Look well, for this will be your fate." Marcus Flint and Lucius Malfoy threw Snape into the room. From his vantage point on the ground Oliver could see a wand slide out of Snape's robes. He seemed to be the only one who noticed this. Malfoy and Flint drew back from him in revulsion. Snape looked up at Voldemort with pure hatred in his eyes.

Voldemort raised his arm, pointing his wand at Snape. No one was watching Oliver. He inched forward and his weak fingers closed around the wand. Snape's eyes flickered down to meet those of his former student. Oliver stared back at him before Voldemort began to laugh.

"And so ends all who dare to stand against Lord Voldemort!" he said maniacally. Oliver saw Voldemort getting ready to scream the Killing Curse. On a whim, Oliver raised his own, stolen wand. "Expelliarmus!" Oliver screamed out, disarming Voldemort and sending him flying against a wall. Snape met Oliver's eyes for one, frightened second.

"We'll come for you Wood," he said, before Disapparating with a loud pop that sounded like a whip cracking. Oliver let himself fall back down to the floor, unable to stand up anymore. Flint and Malfoy helped their master to stand up. Voldemort turned his flaming red eyes on Oliver. Oliver inwardly cringed. He had just sealed his death blow. No one dared to attack Lord Voldemort in such a way. When he spoke, Voldemort confirmed Oliver's suspicions.

"I have no more need for this boy," he said dismissively. "Take him away." Flint eagerly stepped forward, taking out his wand. He stopped when Voldemort held out his hand. "No. that's too painless and quick." Oliver saw the gleam of Voldemort's teeth as he smiled evilly. "Throw him outside. Let him freeze and Dumbledore shall never find his icy bones."

"No!" Oliver struggled as Malfoy and Flint grabbed under his arms and dragged him outside. "No!" Oliver yelled again as he was thrown out into the icy wind. Malfoy went inside, but Flint remained outside for a few more seconds to watch his former Quidditch opponent.

"Not so tough now, are you Wood?" he sneered at him. Oliver stared up at him, already beginning to shiver. Snow began to fall around them. Soon it was whipping into their faces, making tiny red marks where it hit. "You could really use my help, couldn't you? You know that you wouldn't last for another five minutes out here in the snow by yourself."

Oliver glared up at Flint in the darkness. A faint light was shining on the snow from the Death Eater's quarters. It was the only illumination that existed. All of the natural light had fled. "I would never ask you for help Flint, not even if my life depended on it," Oliver hissed. He could feel the thin rivulets of blood streaking down his chin. He wondered whether that was from internal injuries or a cut on his lip. Either one didn't feel very good to have; though he supposed that internal injuries might be worse than a cut on the lip.

"Your life does depend on it, you Scottish bastard," Flint said with a sneer in his face. "You always were a proud asshole. I could save your life right now. Voldemort wants you on our side. If you would just give up he would have you."

"Join with you?" Oliver felt himself beginning an incredulous laugh that ended in a hacking cough. "I'd rather die."

"Then you'll die," Flint said indifferently. He walked back towards the headquarters of Voldemort. The door closed and Oliver was left alone in the snow.

"No!" Oliver yelled out at the snow. "No! Don't leave me here!" He would have yelled more, but his proud heritage would not allow him to yell more. He sank into the snow, weeping at his predicament.

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Harry, Hermione, and Ron were sitting on the couch. With the news of Oliver's parents their happy moods had gone. They should rightfully be outside and playing Quidditch but instead they were sitting and moping inside. Hermione felt another surge of anger towards Voldemort as she looked at Harry. Voldemort had stolen so much from Harry: his parents, his life, his childhood, Cedric, his innocence, his godfather, and now his happiness. How much more would Harry have to give up?

There was a loud pop. Ron looked up in confusion. "What was that?" he asked to the silence of the parlor. "Fred and George are at the shop, Bill and Charlie are at the Ministry with Dad, and everyone else is at their jobs. No one should be Apparating here."

Ron hesitantly got up and walked out the door. Hermione closely followed. Harry stayed on the couch, a sense of foreboding taking him over. When Hermione screamed he did not start. It was what he was expecting. He sat on the couch as Mrs. Weasley ran down the stairs. She screamed when she saw what was outside their door. Harry still sat on the couch, frozen in a sort of shock as Professor Snape was brought into the Burrow.

"Oh my god," Hermione said, her breath coming in short gasps as she started to hyperventilate. "What do we do? Mrs. Weasley, what should I do?" Alicia, Katie, and Angelina came down the stairs. Katie squealed in horror when she saw her Potions Master lying unconscious on the kitchen table. Blood was seeping through his nose and ears, there were bruises all over his body and his breathing indicated that he had a broken rib.

Angelina felt panic overtaking her but she tried to stop it. She took a deep breath and strode into the kitchen. Hermione was against the sink, completely useless. Her breath came in short gasps. If she continued this for long then she would pass out. Angelina took out her wand. "Accio!" she said loudly. A paper bag came whizzing to her. She gave it to Hermione. "Put this over your mouth," she commanded. Hermione complied with her wishes and her breath started to slow down.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley looked at her and for the first time saw the adult that Angelina had grown into. Before this incident she was just one of the twins' friends from school. Now she was a woman that was equal with herself. Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"I need you to go to the Ministry of Magic. I know that the Aurors and Arthur will be there. Professor Dumbledore might be there as well. We need to gather everyone here."

"Shouldn't we take him to St. Mungo's?" Ron asked, staring at Snape with a morbid fascination. "Wouldn't they be able to do more for him than we would?"

"That wouldn't be bright," Mrs. Weasley said crisply.

"Why not?" Harry asked, speaking up for the first time since Snape had come in.

"Remember Bode last year?" she asked, starting to bandage one of Snape's cuts. "The Death could have infiltrated St. Mungo's. If we put him in there then they could kill him. It's not safe anywhere anymore. The best thing would be to take Healers here."

"If you don't need anything I'll be going," Angelina said. Mrs. Weasley nodded. Angelina walked out of the house and disappeared with a sound like a whip cracking.

Katie stared at the unconscious Snape. Though he had tortured her and her fellow Gryffindor Quidditch team members she felt enormous amounts of pity for him. The main thought that was going through her head was not concern for Snape. The main thought that was going through her head was that Oliver would look worse than this if they got him back.

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Sorry that it took so long to churn this out! In addition to the thing above, I had a huge case of writer's block. I also obtained a part-time job that takes up all my weekend, which was the only time I had to write due to classes. Please bear with me and know that updates might be a bit slower than they used to be.

Thanks, Alasse


	13. Chapter Thirteen: A Team's Love

A/N: Whew. Had to somewhat reorient myself in the world of Harry Potter. I've been so busy and I've fallen in love with anime again, so it was somewhat hard to bring myself back to the world of wizards and witches. But then I found dearest darling Oliver, and our favorite Keeper pulled me back!

Oliver: Write more you jerk! I'm still in Russia!

Me: Aw…but I don't wanna…you want to just stay here and watch anime with me? Come on, we're getting to the good part.

Oliver: No! I don't want to watch some of your stupid Muggle shows! (Drags author back to computer) WRITE!

Me: All right! Geez! (Glances longingly at the TV before beginning to write)

So that explains why I'm back. (Glares at Oliver who is sitting in corner) (Oliver glares back) Well, since our dearest, darling Keeper has put the omnipotent author in a bad mood, he just might be in for a little punishment… (Evil snicker)

Disclaimer: I cannot begin to compile a comprehensive list of the things that DO NOT belong to me.

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Angelina dashed through the Ministry of Magic. She had gotten herself lost in the winding halls and paths of the underground government and had no idea where to go. In her hurry she had neglected to check for a map. She cursed her hasty decision now, staring at a long hallway full of doors. "I don't have any idea where I am," she whispered, wandering down the halls. "I have no idea where I am."

She decided to open the next door on her right and ask for directions. _After all, I'm not a man. I have no problem in asking for directions, _she thought to herself with a grim smile on her face. Katie had bemoaned the fact that Muggle men had an obsession with not asking for directions many times.

Angelina walked to the door. She took a deep breath, raised her hand, and knocked firmly on the door. She winced, ready for some angry wizard to come and scream at her for annoying him. She was astonished when Percy answered the door.

"Percy," she said in surprise. It took a while before her natural annoyance and anger returned at seeing him. "I thought that you were some special assistant, or whatever."

"I am," he said, his face set in stone. He had become used to the anger and disgust of everyone when they talked to him. Angelina was no different from his family, his former friends…she was no different. "I needed to use the bathroom," he said, gesturing up at the restroom sign above the door.

Angelina looked up in embarrassment at the sign above the door. "Oh," she said, her ire gone. She felt her face growing hot, and thanked Merlin for her dark skin tone. No one would ever know when she was furiously blushing. "Well…ah…"

"What were you doing here?" Percy asked, looking at her sternly. "I can't think of any reason you'd need to be in the Ministry, let alone down here."

"I have very good reason for being here," Angelina defended herself, standing up straight to shield herself and her dignity. "And I don't mean to be here. I…got lost," she finished, her brave façade slightly fading. Percy looked at her, raising one eyebrow.

"Well, I have nothing better to do," he said, walking away from her. "Where are you trying to go? I can take you there."

"Your father's office," Angelina answered promptly. Percy stiffened and Angelina smirked. That was all of the reaction that he made. "I need to see him about something," Angelina said, watching to see if she could bait him into saying anything.

"Oh?" Percy asked, trying to sound casual. "What about? Unless it's prying," he said, trying to sound sorry and failing miserably.

"It's about Oliver," Angelina said, smug in her ability to make Percy stop. She had tried to faze him all during school and had failed. Now she finally could and she was going to take advantage of it. She sped up as she realized that while she dallied here with Percy, Oliver was still in Voldemort's clutches. _Still…_she thought to herself, with an evil smile, _I suppose that as long as Percy's here I might as well torture him…_

"What's wrong?" Percy asked, grabbing her arm. "Did you find him yet? Do you know where he is? Do you know what condition he's in?"

"Easy there Percy," Angelina said gruffly, not forgetting the hell that he had put the Weasley family through. "We don't know anything yet. I just need to find Dumbledore to tell him that we don't know anything."

Percy glanced back at her. Angelina could sense that he didn't believe her, but she didn't care. After he had refused to acknowledge his family, and had even gone out of his way to remind them that he didn't' care, he did not get any recognition. At least not for a while. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing what was going on with Oliver.

"Here's where the Aurors are," he said, gesturing down the hallway. "They can take you from here." He started to walk away and Angelina followed him.

"What?" she challenged, grabbing his arm. "You can't bring me to your father's office? You're too afraid to face them? Maybe the reason they're not talking to you is that you're not talking to them."

"I'm not going to give my family the pleasure of rejecting me," Percy hissed, jerking his arm away from Angelina. "Now would you please let me go? I'm a busy man."

"Try and talk to your family," Angelina said, suddenly converting this into her personal crusade. "They might miss you as much as you miss them." Percy looked at her strangely before walking away down the hall.

_What was that look in his eyes? _Angelina thought to herself as she stared after him. _It was a look of longing, and confusion all at once. I feel sorry for him. He misses his family…I think…but he's too proud to say so. _She shook her head and walked down to the Auror offices.

Kingsley looked up as she came in. he couldn't quite remember her name, but he did know that she had been in a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. "Hello ma'am," he said, keeping up a front of personal detachment. "I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt, why don't you come on in?"

Angelina followed him into the small cubicle. As soon as they were sheltered Kingsley dropped the act. "What's wrong?" he asked her, glancing around to make sure that they were not being eavesdropped upon.

"It's Professor Snape," Angelina whispered, forgetting to drop the Professor from Snape's name. "I don't know where he came from, but we just found him outside the Burrow. I think Lord…Voldemort tortured him." Angelina felt rather proud of herself. She had said Voldemort's name and she had not run away in terror or started screaming. "Alicia saw Professor Dumbledore this morning. I think she knows where Oliver is. Snape's still unconscious and we can't get any information out of him." Angelina stopped and ran through her head again, trying to see if she had forgotten anything.

Kingsley lowered his head and cursed. "Holy Hell," he said softly to himself. He raised his head and looked at her. "I'll take it from here. Go back to the Burrow. We'll all be there in just a few minutes." As Angelina was leaving he called her back. "You might want to go by Fred and George's shop and get them." Angelina nodded and left the Ministry of Magic.

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Angelina walked down Diagon Alley, searching for the twin's shop. She vaguely remembered the twin's shouting the address of their shop at the end of last year while they were riding away on their broomsticks, but she had not remembered. So now she was walking down the streets, getting jostled by many other people doing their shopping as well. "Come on," she hissed, searching for the shop. "Come on…ah-hah!"

She saw the small shop with the proud sign out proclaiming "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes". She smiled as she saw many children going into the shop. She watched them come out with their bags bulging before going in herself. She carefully pushed the door open, ready for any surprise that the twins could throw at her. She waited…waited…waited… "AUGH!" she screamed, jumping away from the puppet that had just dropped down in front of her.

"Welcome to our humble shop Angelina!" Lee Jordan said, sticking his smiling face out from behind a stack of fireworks. She stepped back and examined the puppet. "Surprise your friends and family. It has a Levitation charm on it that only lifts when someone comes in," Lee proudly said, watching the small puppet float up to the ceiling. "And if you'll look very closely at this dear puppet, you'll notice that it resembles someone quite closely…" Angelina squinted.

She began to laugh as she realized what they had done. "It's Umbridge," she said, holding her stomach to contain her laughs. "You made the puppet into Umbridge." She continued to laugh until Fred and George came out from the back room.

"Is that the delightful voice of one Angelina Johnson I hear?" Fred asked, cupping a hand to his ear. George repeated his twin's gestures. Angelina sobered up once she saw the twins and remembered why she had come here.

"Can I talk to you in the back?" she asked, with an apologetic glance towards Lee. "Sorry, but this is just kinda…it's…"

"Go on ahead," Lee said smiling broadly. Angelina rolled her eyes and inwardly groaned. He, Katie, and Alicia had always had a theory that Angelina and Fred were madly in love with each other and just afraid to show it. Their going together to the Yule Ball had only helped fuel this rumor, no matter how many times Angelina had tried to insist that they were just friends. Now Lee would never let her hear the end of it.

"What is it?" Fred asked, recognizing the serious look on Angelina's face. She closed the office door behind them, making sure that they could not be overheard.

"Snape came back today," Angelina said in a low voice. "He was beaten badly, and the popular belief seems to be that Voldemort tortured him. Alicia had a dream last night and now she thinks she knows where Oliver is. Snape's still alive, but he's unconscious, so we're not getting any information out of him. We're gathering everyone to the Burrow. It's time that you came with us." She waited for the twins' response.

She got it almost immediately when George stood up and walked out of the hospital. "Lee, can you handle things for us here?" he asked. "Something really important has just come up and Fred and I need to go take care of this."

"George, what's going on?" Lee demanded, going to stand with his friend. He tried to keep his voice quiet so that Angelina would not know that they were arguing. "I don't mind covering the shop for you, you can go whenever you like and I'll be here. I just want to know where you're going and why you need the secrecy. Is it…is it Him?" he asked, dropping his voice in fear. "George, what's going on with you, Fred, and Angelina? What's happening that you can't talk about it in front of me?"

"Lee…it's too dangerous," George tried brush it off. Lee would not be deterred. "IF I told you, you could end up getting killed or worse!" he finally said, raising his voice. "You think I want that on my hands?" he lowered his voice with an anxious glance back towards the office where Angelina and Fred were waiting. "Look Lee…one day…when it's not so dangerous…maybe I could tell you. But not today. Not today."

"All right," Lee said, setting his face in a stubborn look. George saw that look and he knew that he had just hurt Lee deeply. "You go on. You do whatever you need to do. I'll be here."

"Lee, you have to understand," George pleaded, stretching out his hand to clap Lee on the shoulder, but Lee moved out of his reach. George stared at Lee, but Lee refused to look at his old friend. George finally gave up and went back to the office. "Come on," he said, gesturing with his head. "We need to go."

"Goodbye Lee!" Fred called out as he exited the shop. Lee merely jerked his head in their direction, studiously fixing a display of trick candies. The door clanged closed behind them, and the three wizards set off down the street, their faces stony masks of determination.

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"They're not here yet," Hermione said nervously, looking out of the door. "Shouldn't they be here by now? What if Angelina couldn't find them?"

"Hermione, calm down," Ron said with surprising force. "Your going insane is not going to help anything." Hermione looked at him with a hurt look, but did not say anything else. "Harry, are you all right?" Ron asked, going over to his friend. Harry was sitting alone at a corner of the kitchen, staring straight ahead at Snape.

"Yeah, I'm all right," Harry said, looking anything but. They still had not moved Snape. Mrs. Weasley was hesitant to do anything without Dumbledore's permission and blessing. She might hurt Snape even worse than he already was.

"Someone's here!" Mrs. Weasley said, looking out of the door. "It's Tonks and Lupin," she announced to them and then pulled the door open for them. Lupin strode into the kitchen, his eyes immediately locking on Snape. Years of mutual loathing could not stop the expression of disgust from appearing on his face, but this time it was muted by worry and even a little bit of fear.

"Hello Molly, Hermione, Ron, Harry," Lupin said, nodding to each one of them in turn. They all nodded back, certain that everything would be all right now. Lupin had an air about him that somehow made you believe that everything was going to be all right. "The others are on their way, we just managed to get away first. Dumbledore's gone to Hogwarts to get Madame Pomfrey. He says that you did the right thing in not taking him to St. Mungo's."

"Are you sure we can trust Poppy?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "I know that she wouldn't willingly betray Dumbledore, but does she know what will happen when she knows all that we know?"

"Poppy knows full and well what she is getting herself into," Lupin assured Mrs. Weasley. "Do we know any of the specific curses that were used on him?"

"From what I can tell, it just looks like he was beaten," Mrs. Weasley said. "We were waiting for someone to come along. Your expertise is in the Dark Arts."

"Well, it is, but this isn't my area of specialty in the Dark Arts. You'd have to get Moody for curses. If it was a nice banshee or a Red Cap, then I would be invaluable," Lupin said, looking up at Mrs. Weasley with a slight grin. She nervously grinned back at him.

"Speak of the devil," Tonks said, looking through the door. She opened it up to let Moody in. His false leg clunked on the floor as he went and stood over Snape. The small kitchen was become quite crowded rather quickly. "We were wondering whether or not you could identify the curse that was used on him."

Moody made several noises in his throat as he looked at the unconscious Potions teacher. "I always thought that Severus would end up getting tortured by Voldemort," he said, rolling up Snape's sleeves to see the bruises on his arms. "I just thought it would be because he didn't perform his tasks well enough." Lupin coughed and gave a warning look to Moody. "Sorry," Moody said, not sounding very repentant.

The former Auror bent over the Potions professor, his nose barely an inch above him. He was muttering and talking to himself all during his examination. His fingers poked and prodded at some of the bruises, watching to see what colours they would turn when touched. He stood up after a lengthy examination.

"Well, it's obvious that he's been hit with the Crutacius Curse many times," he said matter-of-factly. Harry winced in sympathetic pain. Having been hit with that horror, he could appreciate what it felt like. "I can't pick out any other curses than that one, and it doesn't explain why he's been knocked around so much, or why there are so many bruises on him. For the most part, I think he was just thrown around by Voldemort. Not the most effective way of getting information out of someone, but very quick in administering pain."

"Oh, they're here!" Mrs. Weasley said, interrupting whatever else Moody was going to say next. He looked at her in annoyance and then let it go as Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore walked in. Kingsley strode in a second later. They all looked at Snape simultaneously.

"What do you think Alastor?" Dumbledore quietly asked, and the rest of them listened while Moody told Dumbledore what he had just told them. Dumbledore waited in silence for several seconds before speaking again.

"Well, it's obvious that time is running out for Mr. Wood," he said gravely. "Ms. Spinnet has had a revelation which I feel might prove helpful to our search. We know his general location from her. If Professor Snape would wake up, then we would know much more of the specifics but unfortunately, we cannot have everything that we desire."

"We could do a Locating Spell once we get into the general location," Tonks offered. "We couldn't do it before, because it wouldn't work in such a wide location, but once we get it narrowed down it might work." Dumbledore nodded in approval of that plan.

"We need to get a search party together and go for it that way," Moody growled. "I, of course, will be leading this expedition." Dumbledore looked at him, but didn't say anything. "I would have Tonks, Kingsley, and Lupin come along with me." He paused and looked around the rest of the room and focused on one person. "You, girl," he barked at Alicia.

Alicia stood straight up and looked at him in shock. "Me?" she questioned, pointing at herself in terror. Moody nodded and motioned to her.

"Come on up here," he ordered her. Alicia followed him without question, but with some trepidation. "If you managed to find out his general location, maybe you can help us find out his actual location as well," he said, speaking to Dumbledore rather than to Alicia. "You've come of age, right?"

"Yes," Alicia said, nodding her head fearfully. "But…I don't think I'll be that good…I never was much good at learning counter-curses and the like."

"Nonsense," Lupin said, softly but firmly. "You were in my class, and your grades were among some of the highest for your class. You've proved yourself quite adept at performing the proper counter-curses."

"But this isn't a class!" Alicia protested, thinking of her mother and father. "This is real life! What happens if we meet Death Eaters, and they throw a curse at me that I haven't seen before?"

"You're going to have to take that chance," Moody said gruffly. He grabbed her shoulders and looked at her. Alicia tried not to look at his false eye, but it was impossible. It was spinning around madly in his skull until it came to rest firmly on her. "You, Ms. Spinnet," he whispered to her, so softly that only she could hear him. "Do you want him to die?"

Alicia tearfully shook her head, biting her lower lip tightly. "If you don't help us, then you might as well kill him," Moody said. Alicia's head grumbled resentfully in the fact that Moody was guilting her into saving Oliver, but her heart was screaming in agony, imagining watching Oliver's dead body being lowered into the ground.

"Okay," she choked out, admitting defeat. "All right. I'll go with you. I'll go." Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Moody clapped his hands and turned to Tonks, Lupin, and Kingsley.

"I think we should go at once," he said, his voice sounding oddly gleeful at the prospect of fighting Death Eaters once more. "Dumbledore, what do you think is the best way to get there? Apparation, or a Portkey?"

Dumbledore paused in thought for a moment. "I think that a Portkey would be better," he said slowly to himself. "That way you would all end up in exactly the same place and not scattered here and there like you would be if you were Apparating."

"Portkeys it is then," Tonks said, reaching for a common household item. She was interrupted by Katie standing up.

"Wait a moment," she said, the steadiness of her voice belaying her true emotions. "Why should Alicia go by herself?" As if she had been summoned, Angelina walked through the door at that instant with Fred and George. Katie looked at her and then looked back at Tonks, Kingsley, Lupin, and Moody, squaring her shoulders bravely. "We came here as part of a team," Katie said, her voice trembling for the first time. "IF it's all the same to everyone else, we'd all like to go together and get one of our teammates back."

The members of the Order of the Phoenix looked at her uncertainly. Angelina went to stand beside Katie. She did not say any words. None needed to be said. The message was quite clear: as my team goes, so go I. Moody cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Fred and George stood up, ignoring their mother and father's looks. "If we're a team, then we should go too," George said, jutting his chin out stubbornly. Harry stood up and walked over beside Angelina, Alicia, and Katie.

"No, Harry, you can't!' Hermione said, her voice rising in panic.

"Hermione, we're a team," Harry said, not looking quite at her. "Oliver never gave up on us. We can't give up on him."

"If you're sure you want to do this, then let's go," Moody said, grabbing an ordinary dishcloth. "We'll have to use a Portkey since we have Ms. Bell and Mr. Potter along with us." He pointed his wand at the dishcloth and mumbled "Portus." The dishcloth glowed for a second and then returned to its normal hue. "Everyone grab hold now," he said, holding out the dishcloth.

"Fred, George, Harry, please reconsider," Mrs. Weasley begged, running up to them. "Harry, please think this over dear, you haven't come of age yet, you've been through so much already…" her voice trialed off as she watched her sons and Harry disappear as they touched the dishcloth. "No!" she screamed, tears running down her face.

Mr. Weasley came over to her and embraced her tightly. "Now Molly, let's remember that Harry's already been through many Dark trials already, and has survived."

"I know," Mrs. Weasley sobbed. "The twins though…they don't know what they're getting themselves into…they have no idea…"

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Yay! It's done! Huzzah for teams.

Happy Holidays!


	14. Chapter Fourteen: A Hand in the Snow

A/N: First off, let me apologize for the extraordinarily long delay in updating. First it was the holidays and ALL my family came over so I had to do that. And I don't really have another excuse for why it's so long other than I really don't care for this chapter and it took forever for me to get it where I liked it. And I'm not quite pleased with it. Sorry guys.

On upside, got a Gryffindor scarf for Christmas!

Some cursing in this chapter, it is rated PG-13 for a reason…

Disclaimer: I don't own it, I never have owned it, and unless J.K Rowling feels incredibly generous, I never will own it.

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Hermione and Ron looked at the place where the rescue party had just disappeared from. Hermione's mouth was hanging open, and for a minute Ron was tempted to snap it shut or at least make a sarcastic comment. But then he thought about where his best friend and his two brothers had just gone and all mirth was gone from him. Mrs. Weasley was still sobbing quietly on Mr. Weasley's shirt. It was a very somber occasion, one in which Hermione felt that she had no place in. Bill and Charlie came through the door, talking quietly. They stopped when they saw everyone's expressions.

"What happened?" Charlie hesitantly asked, almost fearful of what he would be told. He looked around; trying to see what could have upset his parents so much. _If it's something that Fred and George have done…I'll kill both of them, _he thought to himself, gritting his teeth as he thought about his younger brothers.

Bill was also looking around, intent on discovering what was wrong. He found what he was looking for when he saw crimson stained robes resting on a table. He walked forward, terrified at whose robes he was looking at. He touched them gently and leapt back with a shrill shriek as he touched flesh. "Who the hell is that?" he asked, standing far away from the table and starting to shake.

"Professor Snape," Hermione said, speaking up for the first time in a while. Her voice was hoarse and Ron could tell that she had been fighting to keep from crying. He felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the bushy-haired girl and put his arm around her. She stiffened, but accepted his gesture of comfort. "He Appparated himself to the house earlier today."

"Holy shit," Charlie faintly said, grabbing the counter to keep his knees from quaking. "Why is he here? Why did he Apparate himself here? Why is he unconscious and bleeding?"

"He was tailing Voldemort, remember?" Mr. Weasley addressed his elder sons. "I suppose that Voldemort must have found out about his true loyalties…somehow…" he shook his head as he thought about Snape's blown cover. "It certainly puts Dumbledore in a tight spot. Without Snape, we'll have no idea what Voldemort's doing."

The door opened and everyone turned around. Madam Pomfrey stepped in the house, her apron and normal clothes on. She looked exactly as Hermione remembered her from all the times she had seen her from when she was visiting Harry in the hospital wing. The witch went over to the table and bent over Snape, examining him carefully. Dumbledore watched her from the corner. If someone had been looking very carefully at him, they would have called his expression almost worried.

"I just wonder how Voldemort knew that Snape was our spy," Bill said, looking around the small, crowded kitchen. "You don't think…" he shook his head as the realization started to come to him. "No. Oliver wouldn't do that. No." Bill vigorously shook his head as Dumbledore's calm, stony gaze started to register with him.

"I just wonder what else Mr. Wood might have told," Dumbledore said, stroking his chin quietly. He saw everyone's horrified looks and answered their outraged questions. "I do not think that Mr. Wood talked of his own violation," Dumbledore said softly. "I think it is right to say that he accidentally revealed Professor Snape's identity under much pain and torment."

Madam Pomfrey looked up from where she had been examining Snape. "Sir, he's coming around!" she said to Dumbledore. Dumbledore immediately went to Snape's side, bending over his body as the greasy-haired Potions professor began to wake up.

"Hopefully he can tell us some important information that we might need," Dumbledore said, his eyes glinting with something akin to worry. He pushed his half-moon glasses up on the bridge of his nose. Snape's eyelids fluttered for a moment before they blinked open.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, motioning to Madam Pomfrey. She came when beckoned and offered Snape a vial to drink from. The Potions professor gulped greedily at the liquid which was offered to him. As soon as he swallowed it, he began to cough. Snape glared at Madam Pomfrey through his hacking.

"Well, I have to make sure that you're all right," she said primly, ignoring his fierce look. Snape drank a few more gulps of the Potion and then let his head fall down again. Dumbledore put his hand on Snape's arm, making Snape look at him.

"Severus, we must know what is coming," Dumbledore said urgently. "You must tell us what is coming so that we might be prepared." Snape's eyes started to close and Dumbledore spoke to him again, using a sharper tone. "Severus, listen to me!" he commanded, glaring at the drifting professor.

Snape opened one eye to look at the world. "He's coming…" he rasped out. His eyes opened wide as if he had just remembered something. The Weasley's looked up and Hermione anxiously clutched Ron's arm. Dumbledore bent lower as Snape's urgent whisper began to fade. "The Dark Lord…coming…he's coming…" The whisper faded entirely as Snape's head dropped to the table and he fell into unconsciousness. Dumbledore stood up and looked sharply at the Weasleys.

"Prepare to leave," he commanded them. They wasted no time, but gathered up everything that they would need. Mrs. Weasley gathered up the clothes and what money the family possessed while Mr. Weasley performed Shrinking Charms on all of the luggage and personal items that the children would need. Hermione quickly ran through the house getting Crookshanks and then helped Ron and Ginny capture Pigwidgeon and Hedwig. The owls hooted irritably as they were roused from their sleep. Errol was collapsed in the dish rack again, presumably after a long night. Charlie grabbed the unconscious owl before looking at his parents.

"Wait a moment," Mr. Weasley said, bringing an abrupt halt to the frantic action. Everyone looked at him as he spoke to Dumbledore. "How do we know that You-Voldemort is coming here?" Ron wrinkled his brow as he thought of that. The Burrow was under a Secret-Keeper Charm. How _would_ Voldemort manage to find the Order of the Phoenix's secret hideaway spot?

"I wondered this myself at first," Dumbledore said, his eyebrows knitting together in concentration. "And then it occurred to me. Voldemort might have pulled the general location of the Burrow away from Mr. Wood. If they got the general location, then they could just send spells around until the spells hit the house." Mrs. Weasley clutched Ginny's arm so tightly that Ginny's fingertips turned blue.

"We don't have much time," Dumbledore said, shoving Ron towards the fireplace. Mr. Weasley took the hint and pointed his wand at the fireplace. A great roaring fire suddenly appeared. Dumbledore withdrew a small pouch from his robes and threw the contents into the fire. The fire grew taller and roared into a bright green colour. Mrs. Weasley shoved Ginny forward first. Ginny clutched her shrunk trunk and Pig. Her face was frozen with fear as she looked at her parents.

"Go to the secret place," Mrs. Weasley said, also communicating with her eyes. Ginny's eyes widened and she nodded as she understood what her mother was trying to tell her. She stepped into the fire, taking all of her things with her.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!" she said briskly. The green flames roared up brighter around her and when they receded, Ginny was gone.

"Hermione, you next!" Mrs. Weasley said. The ritual was repeated again with Hermione and Ron until the adults were left in the room.

"We'd best go as well," Mr. Weasley finally said, looking uneasily around, his hand resting on his wife's forearm. "What are we going to do with…him?" he asked, jerking his head back to the table where Snape lay.

"I can conjure up a stretcher and Apparate him," Madam Pomfrey said. Dumbledore nodded to her. "As much as we would hate to do so, it might be necessary," she said to Dumbledore before she left. "I don't know whether or not I should transport him to Hogwarts or not. We might have to put him in St. Mungo's."

Dumbledore shook his head. He seemed to be thinking and then he looked up, the solution evident in his eyes. "Apparate to the Ministry. They have witches and wizards that can help you and you can spend the night there." Madam Pomfrey nodded, her face set with determination. She conjured up a stretcher and brought Snape off of the table. She waved her wand in the air and they both disappeared with a sound like a whip cracking. Dumbledore looked at all that was left of the Weasleys. They looked sadly depleted. Percy was cast out of the family, the twins had gone with the Order to rescue Oliver, and their two youngest were at the Headquarters of the Order.

"I will follow you," Dumbledore said, his eyes looking at the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley nodded fervently. "Go now," Dumbledore said. Bill raised his hand. All eyes turned to him.

"Wait a moment," he said, his voice quiet. "Does anyone else hear that?" There was no sound in the room save their breathing.

"It sounds like…" Charlie looked up in horror as the realization of what was coming hit him.

"Incantations," Mr. Weasley finished, grabbing the rest of the luggage. "Go now! Bill, Charlie, go!" he bellowed at his eldest sons. With identical sounds, both Bill and Charlie disappeared. A blast of white light cut through one wall, baring it to the bright sun of the late afternoon. Mrs. Weasley could not stop a small yelp from escaping her mouth.

"Molly, let's go!" Mr. Weasley yelled. Dumbledore motioned them on, but the Weasley parents waited for a fraction of a second. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" Mr. Weasley yelled, blinking furiously to clear the dust from the fallen wall out of his eyes.

"Arthur, I will be fine, now go!" Dumbledore commanded with authority heavy on his voice. The Weasley parents did as he said and Apparated away, though not before seeing another wall of their house fell to the spells of the Death Eaters.

When Arthur appeared in the Headquarters, the first thing he did was sneeze. He could easily tell that there had been a long absence in the house, for dust had accumulated quite heavily. He felt a pang of grief in his heart as he remembered the dark-haired man who used to live here and then he shook his head and concentrated on the task at hand. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were standing around their luggage with lost looks on their face, but Molly was already there with them. Arthur turned his attention to Bill and Charlie instead.

"Well, it's not like home, but it'll do," Bill said, attempting to be lighthearted in the midst of all the tragedy. His brave ambition at humor fell painfully flat. Everyone looked at Dumbledore as he appeared in their midst.

"I put up a Shield Charm around your house," he announced to them. "I could not repair the damage that was already done, but the Death Eaters will not be able to hurt the house anymore." Mrs. Weasley nodded her head in thanks while still clutching Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. She was muttering reassurances to them-and also squeezing the breath out of them.

A small owl blew in the room. "It must have gotten in through the open place in the attic," Hermione whispered. Her mind switched gears rapidly. "Buckbeak!" she hissed out. Ron looked at her. "Where's Buckbeak?" she asked him. Ron shrugged and turned back to Dumbledore.

"Ah," he said, folding the letter and tucking it inside a pocket inside his robes. "Poppy's managed to secure help at the Ministry," he told them all. "All of them are our people," he told the Weasleys before they could ask. Hermione stepped forward. He looked at her kindly. "Yes Ms. Granger?"

"Professor, where's Buckbeak?" she asked him hesitantly. "We haven't heard anything mentioned about him after…after last year," she said, casting her eyes to the ground.

"He is up in one of the upstairs rooms," Dumbledore informed them. "Charlie checks in on him usually every day and makes sure that he is all right." Charlie kicked the floor and looked down. He was terrified that if he looked up, everyone would see the bright red blush that had spread across his face. Dumbledore's voice was full of pride.

"So what do we do now?" Ron asked, looking around distastefully at the old house. "What'll happen to the others?" he asked suddenly. "They're going to go back to the house when they come back and we're not going to be there!"

"I took care of that as well," Dumbledore said patiently. "On your doorstep there is a phoenix feather. This will alert them to the fact that we have changed our location. Naturally, they will think of here first." Dumbledore smiled wisely at them as Ron realized that Dumbledore had indeed taken care of everything.

"What are we going to do now?" Ginny asked, echoing her older brother's question.

"I think that's obvious," Mrs. Weasley said firmly. "Since we can't do anything to help the Order find Oliver, we're going to do the next best thing. We're going to clean up their headquarters!" She finished this with a too-bright smile that made her children wince. She conjured up many rags and handed one to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. "Come on dears," she said, beginning to wipe away at a table, clearing dust away and making all of the children sneeze, "it's time that we got this pigsty cleaned up. It's been far too long since someone was here and gave it a good scrub."

While Mrs. Weasley was keeping everyone else occupied, Dumbledore pulled Mr. Weasley over to the side. "You're going to be all right while you're here Arthur?" he asked, glancing at the rest of the family.

"Yes sir, we'll be fine," Arthur said stoutly, squaring his shoulders. "And if I may sir, where will you be going?"

'I will go to the Ministry, and see what Poppy can do for Severus," Dumbledore said. "Good luck. I will be back in a few days to check up on you." Arthur nodded and the two wizards both said their farewells. Arthur watched as Dumbledore swept out of the door. He looked out of the window at the square, but Dumbledore was already gone.

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Cold. That was the first thing that hit him. His face slammed into packed snow, making him cry out. When he did cry out, he got a mouthful of snow. Harry slowly sat up, already shivering. His summer clothes had no place in Northern Russia. "Oh bother," Tonks said, looking at all of them. "We came in our summer clothes, didn't we?"

"Brilliant deduction," Fred muttered rebelliously, his teeth chattering madly. George echoed his twin's stare, his arms wrapped around his waist tightly.

Kingsley waved his wand and muttered something under his breath. Almost instantly the entire company was covered with thick warm cloaks. Alicia clutched her cloak tight to her and watched her breath blow out. She could feel the tips of her ears and her nose beginning to go numb.

"Well, come on," Lupin said, waving them all forward. "We're not getting anything done here." All of the members looked at him and slowly moved forward.

Half an hour later they were still walking. Katie coughed and winced, feeling a shot of pain go through her raw throat. She winced and pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Her feet shuffled through the snow, making long trenches that were automatically erased after they passed. She sniffled, feeling herself gain a cold. "Where are we?" she called up to Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley and Moody.

"We're close to where we think Voldemort has his lair," Moody shouted back, then turned around and stared at her. "Constant vigilance is required!" he shouted, a mad gleam in one of his eyes. Katie would have jumped, but she was too frozen to be very much surprised. "Constant vigilance," he told her again before turning around.

"Honestly, you're mad Moody," Tonks said, brushing back her hair, which was her favorite colour, spiky pink. Kingsley nodded, his teeth chattering too much to add to Tonk's description of Moody. Tonks blinked her eyes, trying to get snowflakes off her eyelashes. The wind was brutal, turning all of their cheeks as pink as Tonks' hair. It scraped their faces, turning their cheeks raw. It was not a kind place to be.

Alicia looked around at the blank landscape. It was nothing by a pure white blanket of snow as far as the eye could see. If someone was caught out in this…if a wizard was caught out in this without his wand…it would take a miracle to get out alive. And that was for a perfectly healthy wizard, not one who had been caught by Voldemort and kept prisoner for at least several weeks if not longer. She winced and bit her lip, tears coming to her eyes and freezing as they hit her cheeks, as she thought of what would most likely become of Oliver if he was out here.

Angelina trudged along, her head down to avoid the wind. The snow soon became blurred underneath her vision. She felt like she had been walking for hours on end. _And I always thought that Oliver's training sessions were bad, _she thought wryly to herself. The thought of Oliver made her pause. She stopped and watched as the snow gathered around her feet. _Oliver…_she bit her lip and looked up at the bleak grey sky. _Why did I ever get myself into this? _She wondered as she kept on staring at the sky. _Why am I fooling myself? I'm not smart like Alicia, or brave like Katie. I'm just…here. I don't have any great skill with magic. And I'm going into one of the most powerful wizard's lair in the world armed with nothing more than my friends, two of which are underage and my wand. No, I'm not insane at all._

"Oy! Angelina!" Angelina quickly turned around as she saw Fred and George struggling through the snow. "What did you stop for? You're miles behind everyone else!"

"What about you?" she asked, trying to stop the wind from blowing her over. She waited until the twins caught up with her and then the three started walking forward again.

"Oh…we were just walking," George said, looking down at the snow. "We don't do snow very well." He coughed as some snow and wind went into his opened mouth.

Angelina put her head down and walked a few steps forward. She grunted when she ran into someone. She looked up and saw Lupin turning around to look at her. "Everyone's here?" Moody asked, looking around at their meager. "Good." He started to walk up, his wooden leg sinking deep into the snow. "Damn snow, damn leg," he cursed to himself as he finally got in front of all of them.

"We think that Voldemort's lair is somewhere over there," Moody gestured towards his left. Everyone automatically turned their heads to look at where he was pointing. There was nothing there.

"But there's nothing there," Fred said, speaking the words that were on everyone's minds. Moody pointed at him and nodded as if he had been expecting someone to say something like this.

"It's because there's nothing there that we suspect it. Concentrate hard boy. Can you feel anything?" Moody waited while the red-headed boy closed his eyes. One could see him almost shaking with effort. After a few seconds he finally stopped and shook his head. "See, if a wizard can't feel _anything_ in a place at all, not even the slightest tingling of magic, then there's a pretty good bet that there is a lot of magic hidden somewhere close."

Harry looked around, trying to find the location of the lair. He had been listening to what Moody had said, but he had a connection with Voldemort that not many-all right, no one else had. He concentrated hard on Voldemort, focusing on his pale white face, his snake-like nostrils, his wide red eyes-

Lupin's face paled when he heard the scream. He turned around to see Harry writing in the snow, his hands clutching his scar. Angelina, Katie and Alicia were kneeling down in the snow beside him. Alicia was trying to soothe Harry while Angelina was urgently whispering to him. "Harry, shut up!" she hissed at the young boy. "Do you want him to know where we are?" Harry's cries only became louder, if that was possible.

Lupin and Tonks ran back to Harry while Moody tried to follow, cursing all the while at his wooden leg. Lupin tried to talk to Harry, but nothing worked. Harry suddenly went stiff. His eyes snapped open and stared straight ahead at the cloudy grey sky. Kingsley quietly cursed and watched Lupin talk to the unresponsive Harry.

After several tense moments, Harry began to react normally to his environment. Lupin let out a sigh of relief as Harry sat up. Moody looked around and also sighed in relief as there were no Death Eaters coming after them. Harry looked up Moody, Kingsley, Tonks, and Lupin. "Voldemort's that way," he said, pointing slightly to the left of where Moody had pointed. "I could feel him there."

Lupin sighed as he helped Harry up. "Harry, do you realize what you could have done?" he asked the young wizard-in-training. "Your screams could have alerted the Death Eaters to our presence and we might be done for!" Harry could see the hidden looks of agreement on almost everyone's face. Lupin bent down on the pretense of checking Harry's scar. "But I'm quite certain that your father would have done the same thing, no matter how foolhardy it was," Lupin whispered quietly, so no one else but Harry would hear. Harry half-smiled and moved forward, his wand out and ready.

Alicia, Angelina, and Katie all moved forward together, caught in their idea that if they stayed together they would be better protected. Alicia held her wand out as she scanned the horizon. Her right foot accidentally hit her left foot as she was walking through the snow and she fell down hard on her face. "Alicia," Katie hissed, offering her hand. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Alicia grunted, taking Katie's hand and putting one hand on the ground to push herself up. Her hand went through the snow. Alicia groaned in exasperation and tried to move her hand. Her face froze in a mask of horror when she discovered that there was something _soft_ underneath her hand. There was something made of flesh resting underneath her hand. "Angelina…Katie…" Alicia said, her voice shaking in horror. "There's something under there.

The two Chasers looked at her in horror. "Are you serious?" Angelina asked, her voice suddenly sounding weak. Alicia inwardly smirked. Despite her tomboy appearance, there was something that Angelina could not stand and that was dead things. It didn't matter what it was, if it was dead then Angelina wouldn't go near it. "We're going to have to dig it up, aren't we?" Angelina asked, her face sinking and her voice reflecting her apprehension and disgust. Alicia winced and nodded.

"It might help us," she said, watching Katie dump a large pile of snow off to the side. "We could see what it is. Perhaps You-Voldemort," she let out an involuntary shudder at his name, "has been using some Death Eaters for target practice."

"Alicia, that wasn't very funny," Angelina said seriously. Alicia looked at her, knowing that Angelina was hiding a smile and secret shame at herself that she hadn't said something like that first.

"Wait a moment," Alicia said after a few seconds of watching Angelina and Katie clear snow away manually. She took her wand out and pointed it at the snow. The snow seemed to shimmer and then it melted. "Melting Charm," Alicia said proudly. Angelina gasped and quickly moved away from the melted snow. Alicia looked and saw why Angelina had moved away so fast.

A hand stuck up from the snow.

Katie screamed in horror. Everyone's heads snapped to where the girls were. Fred and George started running to their sides, followed quickly after by Harry. Lupin and Tonks came right after, their wands out. Kingsley was right behind them. Alicia wordlessly pointed at the hand. Lupin finished the Melting Charm that Alicia had started. He leaned down close to the snow and swiped a few last pieces of snow and slush off of the body.

And Alicia was confronted with Oliver Wood's pale, almost dead, face.

Alicia reached her hand out to touch it, to reassure herself that he was not dead. _No, he's not dead, he can't be dead, please don't let him be dead, oh Oliver if you're dead then I'll kill you, don't be dead, how can you be dead-_her mind cried out in one long, continuous monologue.

A purple light lanced across the grey sky and Alicia heard something she thought that she would never hear in her life: Angelina screaming.

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Meh. After a lot of long and pointless exposition we finally got back to what mattered. Go me. Anyway. Please review and tell me what you thought of it.

See? You click right there.

Right there.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: The Battle

A/N: We just had a snow. It's melting. You know what's a good show? Wolf's Rain. Everyone should go watch it. Nothing much to say here, so I'll just commence to writing.

Please forgive me if I don't respond individually to every single review I get. Getting the chapters out is usually daunting enough for a small mind such as mine.

Disclaimer: Is it boring for anyone else to read this at the beginning of every single chapter? It's somewhat boring and depressing to write it at the beginning of every single chapter.

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Time seemed to freeze. Alicia could only stare at Oliver's pale face. Dried blood was on his forehead and coming out from his lips. Angelina's scream rang through the entire landscape. Alicia could do nothing except feel her knees go numb from kneeling in the snow. She slowly brought her head up and saw Tonks, Kingsley, Lupin and Moody turn around and pull their wands out.

She turned around and saw everything happen in slow motion. Angelina's mouth was still open, her scream lingering on the air. Her eyes followed Angelina's horrified stare and her own mouth dropped open in horror.

Fred was falling to the ground, his body moving in slow motion. All of the sound seemed to disappear. Alicia knew that Angelina was still screaming, screaming like she was never going to stop. And this fact scared her almost more than the dark robed figures advancing on them.

Angelina never screamed. She was tough like that. She looked down on screaming, crying, and emotions that were generally considered girlish. It had been her ambition and her ultimate achievement when she was considered one of the boys by the Quidditch team. In all of the time that Alicia had known Angelina, she had never heard the black girl scream. Until now.

Fred's face was blank and there was no way of telling how much pain, if any, he was in. when his body fell to the ground, a soft cloud of snow rose around him and then settled down. George's mouth hung open and his eyes were wide with disbelief. He slowly turned around towards the people that had attacked his twin.

There were four Death Eaters. They all advanced slowly forward. Their leader took off his black hood. Harry hissed in hatred. Lucius Malfoy's pale face smirked out at them. "Well, well, well," he said coldly, his eyes traveling over all of them and lingering on Fred's still form. Alicia couldn't tell if he was even breathing.

"If it isn't Mr. Potter and his friends," he said softly. Lupin almost snarled at him, but restrained himself. The entire Order felt themselves captivated by his soft words, even the Aurors like Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley. There was something hypnotic about his quiet, power laden voice. "Did you come here to rescue your little friend?" his eyes trailed disdainfully over Oliver. "He's still alive, but only just. It won't be long before he'll be dead. And you can join him," he said softly. He slowly pulled out his wand and leveled it at all of them, pulling it slowly over them as if to prolong the decision.

The decision was made when a light shot out of the end of his wand. It was aimed at Katie. Kingsley let out a warning shout, but she quickly threw herself to the left, rolled, and came up on her feet. She shook off the snow from her body, silently thanking Oliver for all of the harsh Quidditch training he had put them through. It paid off at the oddest times.

The slow atmosphere was gone, replaced by one of frantic action. Alicia was almost reminded of a Quidditch match in the way that everyone seemed to go off in their own direction, yet still remain so connected to each other. Different coloured lights-green, red, and purple-streaked across the sky. Oliver and Fred were forgotten as the other members of the Order of the Phoenix tried to defend themselves.

Lupin paused in his battle to wipe a bead of sweat out of his eyes. He had been fighting Lucius Malfoy. He looked at the pale face, the cool smirk and rage filled him once more. "What?" Malfoy taunted him. "Are you tired already, werewolf?" Lupin's upper lip lifted in an impersonation of his other form and he was ready to lunge back into battle. For some reason Lucius looked behind him and quickly retreated. Lupin waited and then he saw what had made Lucius go away so quickly.

Bellatrix Black was behind him. She swept her long black hair out of her face as she sneered at Lupin. "Well, well, well," she said, mimicking Lucius's voice. "As if it isn't the remaining best friend of my dear departed cousin." Lupin looked around quickly, praying that Harry hadn't noticed this new arrival to the battlefield. He was fortunate. Harry was over with Angelina, Katie, Alicia, and George. Moody and Kingsley were standing in front of them, somewhat protecting them from the spells of the Death Eaters.

"Tell me, how does it feel to be the remaining member of your little band?" she asked him softly. The two wizards circled each other cautiously, almost like dogs getting ready to fight. Lupin tried to remind himself that she was saying these things to make him angry, to goad him into making a false move. But her voice was whispering the truths that he had pondered in his head. "How lonely does it get?" she whispered at him as she made her first move. A jet of red light came bursting out of her wand and barely missed him.

"How disgusting is it, working for Voldemort?" Lupin asked, somehow managing to sneer at her. She did not seem to react to his insult and sent another curse at her. Lupin quickly put a Shield Charm, managing to protect himself from her spells. She smirked at him and Lupin was suddenly reminded of the fact that she was Sirius's cousin. Though her face lacked all the warmth and laughter of Sirius's face, there was something in the lines and angles of her face that reminded him of his best friend.

"Not nearly as disgusting as it must be working for that Mudblood Lover," she scoffed at him. This time, Lupin was not fast enough to dodge her Crutacius Curse and it hit him in the stomach. He automatically dropped to the ground and curled into the fetal position, trying not to scream and failing miserably. Kingsley looked over at him in horror. Bellatrix let out a feral smile and raised her wand above her head.

"Don't worry, now you can go join my dear cousin and your friends," she said to him before leveling her wand at him. The Crutacius curse lifted, just long enough for Lupin to hear the words of his death. "Avada," she began with an insane smile on her face.

She never had the opportunity to finish. She was so focused on destroying Lupin that she had forgotten one of her arch-nemeses: Harry Potter. He hit her from behind with a Stunning Charm. It was not enough to knock her completely unconscious, but it did make her lose her concentration. She stumbled and fell into the snow. Lupin hastily got up and ran away from her. He met Kingsley halfway.

"Are you all right?" the Auror asked him. Lupin shakily nodded and looked around. There were no casualties as of yet, other than Fred and Oliver. He looked around at Moody and Tonks who were standing in front of Angelina, George, Alicia, and Harry.

"This isn't going to work," he told Kingsley. The Auror did not respond, but merely shoved him down in the snow. Lupin understood why as he heard the large man shout out a counter-incantation. There was a cry and Kingsley turned to him again.

"What's not going to work? Having a conversation in the middle of a battle?" Lupin had to smile a little and then his smile faded as he heard Alicia's voice shouting out spells.

"It's not going to work having the children in the midst of the battle," he told Kingsley. He looked around at the carnage. The Order did not have any actual casualties, although he thought that he could spy a little bit of blood coming out of Tonk's nose. However, the Death Eaters were multiplying. It would not be long before their small force was overwhelmed. This was no place for several wizards who were either in, or fresh out, of school. "We need to get them out of here. They can take care of Fred and Oliver until the full Order comes and gets them. Let us handle this on our own." Kingsely nodded and set up a quick Shield Charm to protect them.

"Harry!" Lupin bellowed. Harry looked up at him. "You need to leave!" Lupin said, gesturing violently for extra impact. "Get out of here! All of you!" he said to George, Katie, Angelina, and Alicia. "Take Fred and Oliver away from here!" Harry could be seen shaking his head, as well as Katie and Angelina. George looked at his unconscious twin while Alicia's gaze lingered on Oliver.

"Harry, it's probably for the best," Alicia said softly. "After all, what can we do, besides get killed?" Harry knew somewhere deep within him that she was right; he just didn't want to accept it. He shook his head fiercely.

"You can go if you want, but I'm staying here!" he said firmly. He took his wand out and shot out a Stunning Charm at one of the Death Eaters. He didn't pause to see whether or not he had hit his target. He immediately aimed more at the other Death Eaters. "See?" he asked them, turning his head for a fraction of a second. "I'm fine by myself!"

"Angelina, Harry's right!" Katie said desperately, looking at the older girl while managing to shoot out a charm. "We can do this! Angelina!" Katie said, begging Angelina to side with her. Angelina looked at Katie, Alicia and then out at the snow where Fred lay, still unconscious and maybe even dead. She looked at Katie and slowly shook her head.

"It was a good idea, and we did all that we could do," Angelina said softly. "We have to get out of here or else we're all going to end up dead." _Like Fred…_her mind echoed cruelly at her. Harry turned around, his face a mask of astonishment.

"What?" he asked. He had come here to fight Voldemort! He had been through more than most of the people there! He had fought against Voldemort and survived five times! How dare they suggest that he wasn't prepared enough to fight Voldemort? He was seized by a righteous rage and he was unsure of whom he wanted to attack: Angelina, Lupin, or the Death Eaters.

"Give us the Portkey!" Alicia yelled at Lupin. Lupin nodded and tossed the Portkey to her. Alicia took her wand out and pointed it at the Portkey. "Accio!" she cried out. It sped to her until she caught it in her hands.

"Get Fred and Oliver," Angelina commanded. George nodded and started crawling through the snow until he reached his twin. Grunting with effort, George managed to drag Fred's unconscious body back to where Alicia, Katie, and Harry were waiting. Harry looked at Angelina, who was crawling through the snow to get Oliver. He opened his mouth in horror when he saw a Death Eater level his wand at her.

"Stupefy!" he yelled as he burst up from where he had been crouching. The spell shot towards the Death Eater, hitting him in the stomach. Alicia watched Angelina, biting her lip in concern.

"She's not going to be able to make it," Alicia whispered to herself as she started to crawl towards Angelina. Angelina was futilely trying to pull Oliver's limp body, but he proved too heavy even for the black girl. Alicia made her way towards her.

"I hope that they hurry up," Tonks whispered to Moody, her face white with the cold and concentration. "We can't keep shielding them for much longer." The scarred Auror, though he did not say anything, silently agreed with her. Potter and the others had better hurry up. It was costing them all of their strength to make sure that the kids could get out of here unscathed.

Alicia grunted as she jerked backwards on Oliver's body. "Come on," she grunted to Angelina. She never would have thought that Oliver was this heavy…perhaps it was all of his muscle. Whatever the reason, he was extraordinarily hard to carry over the snowy ground, especially since they couldn't stand up and their feet could not get a firm grip on the shifting snow.

"Come on, hurry up," Katie whispered to herself. George crouched beside her and watched them, anxiety across his face. Though she did not say anything, Katie could see his hand hovering on his twin's forehead. For all of their laughter and joking, the two brothers were closely connected to each other. Having one of them being hurt was like destroying both of them. "George, they're not going to make it by themselves," Katie finally said, looking at him, panic written clearly over her features.

"Damn it," George quietly cursed. He looked down at Fred. "Watch over him, would you?" he asked, darting out from the tiny hiding place that he and Katie had created. He ran over to Alicia and Angelina. With his combined force, Oliver's body started to move along the snow. "Come on," George grunted, pulling hard on Oliver's arm. "We're almost there…" he said, looking back at where Katie was waiting with Fred.

When they were less than five feet away from the hiding place when their luck ended. George stood up and alerted a Death Eater to his presence. A Death Eater leveled his wand at the red-head, who was ignorant of his danger. George hefted Oliver over his shoulder and struggled onward. A jet of red light hit the place where George was carrying Oliver.

Fortunately for George, Oliver took the main force of the curse. But the small part that George got was more than enough to make him drop to his knees and start screaming in pain. Alicia looked helplessly at George's face. There was nothing she could do to make his pain less. His normally laughing face was contorted in agony. The Death Eater finally took his wand away. Angelina looked at him in fear as he started to laugh. The Death Eater was going to kill them now and there was nothing that they could do about it.

_I'm sorry Mum, _she said as she slowly closed her eyes. _I guess you have to go through losing a family member again…as if Dad wasn't bad enough…_Angelina let out a dry sob as she thought about what her mother would go through.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw the Death Eater converging upon Angelina, Alicia, George, and Oliver. He knew what the Death Eater was going to do, and he knew that he was too far away to help them. He looked at Katie, who did not seem to notice the peril that her four friends were in. "Katie!" he screamed at her. She looked at him and then looked at his distraught gaze.

"Stupefy!" she screamed, bursting up from her hiding place and brandishing her wand at the Death Eater. The red light sped from her wand and hit the Death Eater straight in the face. The man fell as if the strings that were holding him up had been cut.

Angelina summoned up the last of her strength and surged forward to where Harry and Katie were waiting with Fred. Her grip on Oliver's wrist was firm and tight, so tight that her knuckles were turning white with the force that she was gripping. George was still lying in the snow; his eyes closed tightly, his breath coming in short, sharp pants. Alicia put her arms underneath his body and managed to roll him to where the others were waiting.

Lupin saw that all of the Quidditch team was there and quickly Apparated to their sides.

"Are you ready to go?" he panted breathlessly. When they all nodded he faintly smiled. "Don't worry about us. We'll leave almost as soon as you do. Good luck." Harry looked at him rebelliously. "Harry, please," Lupin said, clapping him once on the shoulder before Apparating away again. Harry looked after him as the werewolf rejoined in the fray.

"All right," Angelina said, putting her hand on it tentatively. She still held onto Oliver's wrist. Katie touched it whilst holding onto Fred. Alicia touched it, as did George. Harry was the only one not touching the Portkey. "Harry, come on!" Angelina hissed. She could feel the magic in the Portkey starting to take effect. Harry glared at them and it become apparent that he was not going to take hold of the Portkey. Alicia made a futile grab for the agile Seeker, but his Quidditch training enabled him to easily evade her grasp. "Harry!" Angelina cried as she felt the magic begin to jerk at her navel.

At the last second, George's hand shot out and grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt. Then they all felt the familiar tugging from behind their navel and they were gone from the battlefield and on their way back to the Burrow.

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Well, that was really hard. That was harder than I thought it would be. Battle scenes are very hard to write evidently. Oh well.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Healing and Praying

A/N: Oh…God. I'm sorry guys, I really am. I have no excuses for what took me so long to get this chapter out other than I honestly didn't have enough time to write. So, in an attempt to try to console people I have not cut this chapter in half, and have released probably the longest chapter I've written for this story. I hope you enjoy it! Please do not throw rotten fruit in my direction…

My borders for whatever rhymes or reasons do not seem to want to cooperate with me today… please bear with me. I apologize if it's hard to read…I replaced it three times, each with a different border. None worked. Sorry guys…

Disclaimer: Gee, they really like to rub it in my face that I don't own this stuff.

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Harry felt his face slam into grass. He took a deep breath and tried to regain his breath. He rose angrily from the ground and stared around. They were back at the Burrow-except things were wrong. Angelina rose shakily and looked around. "When…was there a hole in the middle of the house?" she asked to the rest of them.

Alicia looked at the house and gasped. The Burrow had been torn apart by magic. There were holes in the house, and burns in the ground that were obviously made by magic. "What happened here?" she whispered to no one in particular.

No one answered her, for they already knew. There had been a battle that had taken place here. Angelina crouched down close to the ground and prodded the burn marks gently. "We need to get out of here," she whispered to the night. Crickets chirped, stars twinkled overhead, and somewhere a bird sang. All of these small, comforting details made the night seem safer than what it really was.

"Where's the Invisibility Cloak when you need it?" Harry quietly asked no one in particular. Angelina might have overheard him, for she looked at him strangely, but she said nothing to him about it. George turned his head to the side and slowly coughed. He pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, as his eyes caught what had happened to his house. Katie shrugged helplessly.

"We don't know," she said weakly. "We figure that there must have been a fight or something. We need to get out of here," she said with renewed urgency in her voice. "They might be around us right now. We have to get out of here!" she finished up with a hysterical edge in her voice. Alicia quickly clapped her hand over Katie's mouth.

"Katie, shut up!" Angelina hissed at the younger girl. "IF they are still here, then they probably just heard you go insane and they're looking for us right now!"

"What are we going to do?" Harry quietly asked. "We have two unconscious people, and George still can't move very well…" It actually slightly surprised Harry that George couldn't move after being hit with the Crutacius Curse. It wasn't even the full force of the Curse, and he still was shaky on his feet.

George glared at Harry, almost as if he could read the thoughts that were going through Harry's mind. "Screw you Potter," George growled, shoving himself up in one huge push. "I'm fine." He turned around and winked at Alicia. "Besides, you girls have to have one man to protect you, right?"

This statement, instead of making everyone snicker, made them even more depressed. Angelina looked down at the unconscious Fred and Oliver. There was a thin trickle of blood coming out of Fred's mouth. Her stomach turned over until it felt like it had exited her abdomen altogether. Oliver looked even worse than Fred. Large bruises covered his entire face, and his breathing was abnormal and strained, almost as if he was hiding several broken ribs. Angelina did not doubt that their escape had hurt him even worse than he was already.

"I suppose the safest place is in the house," Alicia said, sizing up the house with trepidation. "Come on. Harry, help me with Oliver, would you?" she asked, grunting as she put her hands under Oliver's arms and lifted his body up off the ground. Harry took Oliver's leg and quickly walked into the Burrow through a particularly large hole in the wall.

"George, where's a safe place?" Angelina asked once they were in the house. George looked around, sizing up the house.

"Come on," he said, taking the lead. Harry noted the slight limp in George's gait as he walked away. He remembered the look of fierce pride that had been on the man's face when Harry had insulted him. Angelina and Katie came after George with Fred and then he and Alicia came bearing Oliver. George led them to a small pantry.

"It might be crowded, but it's safe," George said, gesturing around. Alicia looked around and had to agree. This was probably the best place that George could have led them to. It was in the back of the house, small, secluded, and it was a place that no one would ever think to look. Angelina quickly closed the door and performed a simple Locking Charm on it. Alicia motioned her away.

"Here, let me," she whispered, concentrating hard. Her brow furrowed and she bit her lip tightly as she concentrated on conjuring up the most complex Locking Charm that she could think of. A jet of electric blue light shot out of her wand and towards the door. When it hit the doorknob it coated it, and then spread over the entire door, making it glow a soft blue that reflected all of their faces.

"There," she said, wiping off the light sweat that had broken out over her forehead. Angelina looked at her in astonishment.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked. Katie nodded wordlessly.

"I mean, I was in the same Charms class with you, and I don't ever remember seeing that," George said, speaking up from the back of the room. "Where did you manage to learn that?"

"Well…" Alicia blushed. "I was interested in Charms, so I went and asked Flitwick for a bit more work last year. I figured that with Him being back, I should learn as much of this stuff as I could."

"Alicia, do you have Divination skills or something?" Katie demanded. "Because what you just did was bloody brilliant!"

Alicia flushed with pleasure, but said nothing else. She turned to Fred and Oliver. "I think what we should do now is look over them and try to figure out what's wrong with them." all of their faces dropped as they pondered the task which Alicia had just given them.

"Well…" Angelina looked over Oliver and Fred before moving closer to Fred. She did not want to look over Oliver. She was terrified of what might be lurking underneath his robes, what hidden horrors that he had to show them. They all seemed to have the same idea. Alicia bit her lip and went slightly green.

"Well…I suppose that I'll go on and look at Oliver, Katie you come with me," she ordered the younger girl. Katie looked horrified and sickened, but she followed the quiet girl's lead. "Angelina, you take Harry and George, and go look over Fred." Both groups turned to their assigned boy.

Angelina's hand hovered over the clasp of Fred's cloak. She could not stop herself from turning this into a twisted sexual experience. She turned to George who sighed and quickly took off Fred's cloak. He continued undressing his twin until there was nothing left but a thin white T-shirt. Angelina bit her lip and shook her head. She still could not recognize the curse.

Harry touched Fred's face gently and then gasped softly. George and Angelina turned to him. "I think I know this curse," Harry said quietly. "I saw it used last year…" That was all that he had to say. Everyone knew where he would have seen it last year.

"Do you remember a counter-curse for it at all?" Angelina asked eagerly. Harry bit his lip and looked down at the floor while shaking his head slowly.

"It was used on Hermione last year," he said. "I was taken to Dumbledore's office after the battle and I didn't see how they cured it. But I do know that it's not fatal." Angelina and George both sighed in relief. Angelina conjured up a bowl of cool water and a towel. She sat beside Fred and started to sponge off his forehead. George sat by Fred's right side and watched over him, occasionally biting his lip as he looked out through the small pantry.

Meanwhile, Alicia and Katie were concentrating on Oliver. Katie glanced at Alicia as she started to unbutton Oliver's robes. The quiet older girl was concentrated on the problem at hand, her eyebrows knitted together as she removed the robes. "Alicia?" Katie asked quietly. Alicia started and then turned to Katie.

"Yes?" she asked softly.

"Have you ever thought of what you wanted to do after Hogwarts?" Katie asked again. Alicia waited for a moment before answering.

"I don't suppose that I gave it as much thought last year as I should have. Of course, playing Quidditch would be brilliant, but I somehow don't see it happening. I don't know. I was just going to take the summer off before looking for a job. Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking," Katie said quietly, hiding her face as she took Oliver's robes from Alicia. "I was thinking that you should think about being an Auror or a Healer."

"Thank you," Alicia said, ducking her head so that Katie wouldn't see her blush. "Now come on. We have to do this right, or else we're going to end up causing more harm than good." Alicia held her wand over Oliver's body. "Lumos," she whispered quietly. A faint light came out of her wand, illuminating Oliver's body.

As soon as the light hit him, Katie thought that she was going to be sick. There were bruises and blood all over Oliver's arms. Alicia winced as her eyes surveyed the damage. _It doesn't matter how good I am at Charms, I'm never going to be able to heal this, _Alicia realized.

Katie felt another presence beside her. She turned to see Harry kneeling beside her. "You all right?" she asked quietly. Harry slowly nodded as he watched Alicia remove Oliver's shirt. Harry bit his lip as he felt the guilt again. Oliver had gone through this for him. It was because of him that Katie was breathing deeply, trying not to vomit. It was because of him that the horrible carnage existed on Oliver's torso.

Cuts, deep and shallow littered his chest. There were so many bruises that it became impossible to distinguish them apart. As Alicia put her hand on his side she detected a bulge that could only be a broken rib. She had her doubts about other bones in Oliver's body. And as she touched his bare skin, she could feel that it was devoid of any warmth. The time spent in the cold might have been even more harmful than all of the time spent with Voldemort.

Alicia searched her memory for the spell to mend broken bones. She could not remember it, and she cursed herself and her poor memory. She looked around for the other people who would be able to perform magic. "Angelina, George," she called softly. Angelina and George came over to her, carefully managing to avoid looking at Oliver. "I need a spell," Alicia said softly, and then proceeded to explain just what she needed.

Angelina looked as blank as Alicia did, but recognition quickly slid over George's face. "It's this one right here," he said quietly. He took out his wand and pointed it at Oliver. He whispered quietly under his breath. Oliver's breath hitched in his chest for a moment and then the bulge disappeared from his side and Oliver's breathing became easier.

"How did you know that?" Katie asked incredulously. It appeared that everyone had hidden talents-George with his healing and Alicia with her Locking Charms, and who knew what else.

"Fred taught me," George said, sparing a glance back at his unconscious twin. "We learned right before we started making all of our stuff. He said that since we were likely to get several broken bones from making the stuff, it was a good idea to know how to fix them ourselves so that we wouldn't call attention to ourselves in the hospital wing." Angelina nodded sagely.

"What now?" Katie asked Alicia. "It's obvious that no one else is here. Where did they go? And how are we supposed to get there ourselves? And what do we do…what do we do with Oliver?" Katie asked, gesturing at her former Captain.

"Get all of the robes and clothes that we're not going to use," Alicia commanded. Angelina looked at her in astonishment. She had never known that Alicia possessed the capacity for ordering others about. It seemed that you could never expect what a person would do in an emergency. "We need to get them around Oliver so that the hypothermia doesn't sit in all the way."

Angelina made sure that Fred was covered properly before bringing over the excess robes. The five children piled them around the unconscious Oliver and then Angelina performed a Heating Charm to provide even more warmth. "And now we wait for morning," Alicia said quietly, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and tucking herself into a corner.

Outside, on the doorstep of the Burrow, the phoenix feather fluttered, but remained on the doorstep, a reminder of where they were supposed to be.

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"Hermione?" Ron asked quietly. She had disappeared after a hasty supper and he had been unable to find her. He was beginning to be quite worried. The house was really not that large and there were not that many places that an underage witch could hide. Well, no places that an underage witch could hide safely. Ron felt the rise of apprehension and began to search more frantically. It occurred to him that there was one place that he had not yet thought to look: Sirius's old room. Ron walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.

"Hermione?" Ron asked. He knocked again, more urgently, but there was still no answer. Ron sighed and gently pushed the door open. He peered in and saw the angry face of Buckbeak. Ron gulped and stepped into the room fully. He made full eye contact with the hippogriff and then bowed. It was only half a second before he heard the responding bow of Buckbeak. Ron walked up to the hippogriff but was confused when it merely lay back down again. Normally it would have walked towards him, intent upon discovering the dead ferrets that Ron had hidden inside his jacket.

Ron looked past the hippogriff's large wings to see a sleeping Hermione on the floor. When Buckbeak lay back down she sighed and rested her head on the hippogriff's side. Ron stared at the sleeping girl, loath to wake her from the peaceful slumber that she was having. If she could find peace and comfort, then let her have it. Would that they were all that lucky.

Ron started to walk out but a soft yawn called him back. Hermione stretched and rubbed her neck when she discovered a crick in it. "Ron?" she asked, trying to stifle another yawn with her hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he answered her truthfully. "Mum was worried about you," he said, not-so-truthfully. He thought that he saw a flicker of disappointment in Hermione's eyes, but that must have been his imagination.

Hermione stood up and stretched. "What time is it?" she asked, trying to smother yet another yawn. Ron began to feel slightly guilty for waking her up.

"It's a little after eleven," he told her truthfully. Hermione bit her lip nervously.

"They should have been back by now," she said, her voice taking on a shriller note than it usually had. "Something's wrong." Ron slowly nodded and bit his lip. "I just wish there was something that we could do," Hermione said, nervously chewing on the end of her fingernail.

Ron looked at her, knowing what she was meaning to say. Ever since first year, he and Hermione had been with Harry as he faced Voldemort. Even if they weren't with him at the very end, they had always helped him to get to where he was. And for the first time, they were not there fighting alongside Harry. It felt different, and Ron was not sure that he liked the way it felt. He had always been Harry's sidekick, from first year on. He had hated it, hated all of the attention Harry received just for having a bloody scar on his face-yet when he wasn't the sidekick, when he wasn't by Harry's side…that feeling was worse than all of the jealousy put together.

"Me too," Ron said, nodding slowly. "Me too." Hermione sniffed, her eyes bright with tears unshed. Ron's eyes widened. He did not know what to do with a crying girl. He had never known what to do when Ginny cried, and now that it was Hermione, it was even more uncomfortable. He somehow knew that Hermione would not cry, but she still looked dangerously close to crying.

On some instinct, he reached over and wrapped his arms around her in an awkward hug. He could feel her tense beneath his arms and he quickly took them away from her and stepped away five paces. He coughed uncomfortably. "Anyway," he said, scuffing the floor with his toe. "Mum wanted you to come down and spend some time with us. And besides…" he looked around at Sirius's old room which still bore traces of his presence, "it can't be very cheerful staying up here."

Hermione nodded. "I'll come down in a minute," she whispered, still looking shocked at what had just occurred between them. Ron stepped out of the room and immediately hit his head with the back of his hand.

"Stupid," he hissed before walking down the stairs.

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Percy bit his lip nervously. He could not dispel the feeling that something was very wrong. He had been experiencing this feeling ever since he had seen Angelina earlier in the day. Somehow he knew-something was wrong with the world. He shook his head and knocked gently on the door.

A frazzled Cornelius Fudge opened the door. "Oh, Mr. Weasley, there you are," he said, opening the door wider and inviting him in. Percy entered, still feeling the slight awe that he felt whenever he was in the room. Here he was, in the Minister of Magic's office, and he was treated like he belonged there-like he was an equal. It was still mind-boggling to him.

"I was just wondering if you needed anything," Percy said respectfully. Fudge thought for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Things had been difficult for him. Having to admit that he was wrong had been a huge blow to him-both to his pride and to his political life. Having to admit that Voldemort had actually returned was possibly the hardest thing that he had ever had to do in his life. There were reports of Death Eaters and Dementors attacking, and there was nothing that he could do to stop it.

"I can't think of anything," Fudge finally said. "You might want to stop by the Auror's offices though. I think that Tonks and Shacklebolt both left earlier in the day. Something about the Oliver Wood case-a new lead or some other thing." Fudge went back to rearranging papers on his desk.

Percy muttered a goodbye and gently closed the door behind him. The second it was closed he leaned up against it, his breath beginning to come in short spurts. They had found Oliver? They knew where he was? Percy began to walk down the halls to where the Aurors had their domain.

Percy kept his eyes on the ground as he walked. When he looked up, his eyes were greeted with something that he did not expect. He saw a person with long flowing red hair walking away from him. His eyes might have been deceiving him, but he was almost certain that it was Penelope Clearwater that was in the Ministry.

"What?" Percy whispered to himself. "Why is she here? I wasn't aware that she had any interests in the Ministry at all." A rare urge took hold of Percy-an urge to break the rules and follow her. He sometimes got these urges, and while he was able to ignore them for the most part, there were some, like this one, that were just too powerful to ignore. He remembered watching the twins as they were growing up and started to follow the advice that they had given for following other people: maintain the proper distance, short enough so that you don't lose sight of them, but long enough so that they don't see your shadow. Use quiet steps, putting most of your weight on the balls of your feet. Breathe quietly and through your nose. It was sad how much of this he remembered, and it made him wilt with shame to think that he was actually taking the twins' advice on something.

Penelope stopped at a door. Percy quickly ducked back into a doorway as she looked around to make sure that no one was lurking within sight. She knocked gently on the door and it swiftly opened. Percy bit his lip to stop from gasping. "Madam Pomfrey?" he whispered in astonishment. This scenario just seemed to be getting stranger and stranger.

Madam Pomfrey greeted Penelope and quickly brought her inside. Percy was unable to quell his curiosity once more. He quickly glanced around to make sure that no one was near or watching him and crept closer towards the door. He put his ear to the door, but someone must have performed a charm on it, for he could not hear anything coming from inside the room. Percy sighed in frustration and then jumped backwards in shock as he saw the doorknob turning. He somehow managed to hide himself in another doorway before Penelope walked out of the room. She glanced around quickly, not seeing him, and walked down the hallway. Percy lurked in the shadows until she came back, bearing several bandages.

He waited until her hand was on the doorknob until she spoke. "Fancy seeing you here Penny," he said quietly. She gasped, jumped, and turned around, her hand over her heart.

"Percy," she panted, looking at him reproachfully. "What are you doing here?"

"Funny," he said, glaring at her. "I could ask the same of you. If I recall correctly, you need proper verification to be in this part of the Ministry. I know that if I were to check you for verification, I would find none."

"So what are you going to do?" Penelope hissed, her temper breaking out. "Run and tattle to Fudge? Throw me in Azkaban for months? I won't stay there. The Dementors are leaving, you know that don't you? More of them leave every day, and the Ministry can't keep them there. Put me in Azkaban? That's a week old sentence…if I don't die first that is."

Percy shrank back under her harsh tongue lashing. When she was finished, she looked at him with regret in her eyes. If it had been another time, if he had not been so horrible to her last year, she would have apologized, but it was too late. The words were out, and she was not going to apologize for them. "It's all right," Percy quietly whispered to her. "It's no more than what I deserve."

"You can say that again," Penelope muttered.

"It's no more than I deserve," Percy repeated dutifully. He was rewarded by a short smile and chuckle from Penelope before her face became serious once more.

"I need to go," she said quietly, trying to step past him to the room. Percy grabbed her forearm and held her in one place.

"Penelope…what's happening?" he asked her quietly. Penelope shook her head and tried to hide her face from Percy. "Penelope…come on love," he cajoled her gently. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Percy, stop it," she whispered to him, sounding close to tears. "Stop acting like we're still a couple. And stop delaying me from what I need to do."

"Penelope…what is this about?" Percy asked. A sudden surge of inspiration came to him. The missing Aurors, Penelope's presence in the Ministry, Angelina's visit…they had to be connected somehow. "Is this about Oliver?" he asked her quietly. Her face paled, and Percy felt that familiar surge of intellectual superiority that he had always felt at Hogwarts when he had discovered the solution before any of his classmates.

"I can't say, please let me through," Penelope whispered quietly.

"Penny, I already know," Percy whispered. "Hermione owled me and told me everything that was happening with Oliver. I just want to know how you got mixed up in this."

"All right," Penelope said. "But it's a long story, and I don't want to talk about it right now. There's someone that needs my help."

A shot of horror went to Percy's heart. "It's not…Oliver is it?" he asked. Penelope shook her head and finally made it past him to the door. Percy followed her. He was prepared for seeing some unusual sight. He was not prepared for what he saw.

Professor Snape was lying on a white hospital bed in the middle of a deserted room. Madam Pomfrey was bustling around him, waving her wand about. She glanced up as she heard the door open and then she froze. "Mr. Weasley," she finally said. Penelope laid down her burden and looked between them.

"It's all right," she said quietly. "He knows about Oliver. Well…a little bit anyway. We can trust him." She glanced at Percy as if to say _'Don't you dare prove me wrong.'_

"If you say," Madam Pomfrey said skeptically. "Well Mr. Weasley, if you're going to stay here then you can do some work. Hold these." Without waiting for a response, she shoved several wads of bandages into his hands. Percy watched the two women as they moved around the unconscious Professor. Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at the various cuts and bruises and muttered under her breath. Percy watched in amazement as the blemishes on the skin disappeared. The only clue that they were ever there was a faint white line where the cuts had been.

Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at various places on Snape's body. White light shot out of her wand and through Snape. When she had finally finished, the Potions Professor was breathing much easier than he had been just a few minutes ago. "Well, that's the worst of it out of the way," Madam Pomfrey said briskly. "Nothing much more to do now than just sit here and wait. Penelope dear, you can go back to work if you wish. I'm sorry to have pulled you out of it."

Penelope shook her head. "No, I'll just stay here," she said faintly. Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Very well then," she said. "I'll just send an owl off to…I'll send an owl off and let everyone know that everything's all right." She left the room.

Percy gave another guilty squirm. He had not missed her suspicious look at him, right before she changed what she was going to say. Penelope sat down on the floor, her eyes wandering about the room.

"Penelope, what is going on?" Percy asked helplessly. He was feeling so confused. He thought that Penelope's presence had something to do with Oliver, but what would explain Snape being in the Ministry of Magic, especially with all of these wounds? And why was Penelope helping Madam Pomfrey to heal Snape? There were a thousand questions, all going around his head at the same time.

"I can't tell you that," Penelope whispered back. Percy looked at her in confusion. Penelope sighed and rubbed her temples. "Honestly Percy, you forfeited your right to know anything about You-Know-Who when you disowned your family. You forfeited the right to know anything about me."

"Penny, can't we put that past us?" Percy whispered desperately.

"Don't…call me that," she whispered, an expression of pain going across her face. Penny was his pet name for her, the name that only he called her. Percy opened his mouth again, but Penelope cut him off before he could say anything. "Don't. Just…don't."

The two sat by themselves, holding vigil over Snape until Madam Pomfrey got back into the room. "Well, everyone's informed," she said with a heavy look. "Apparently there's some bad news though…everyone else is back, but not the younger group. They said something about someone getting hit…" she looked at Percy and gestured Penelope over closer to her. The two women whispered. Percy looked like he was interested in Snape's breathing patterns while moving closer all the time. He got close enough to catch small snippets of their conversation.

He caught the words "Ambush" "Attack" and "Wounded". He listened closer, biting his lip in concentration. He gasped softly when he heard the word "Oliver". It was very frustrating only being able to hear small words and not the entire thing. Then he heard something which made his heart freeze. He heard the word "Fred".

"What about Fred?" he bellowed, rushing forward to stand between Madam Pomfrey and Penelope. Madam Pomfrey looked shocked, but at the same time, pleased, as if she had been expecting this.

"Apparently he was attacked by some kind of Dark curse," she said informatively. "He and the other children went away by Portkey before anyone could properly assess his injuries however. No one knows where they are, only that they should have come back by now."

Percy's face paled, making his freckles stand out even more than usual. "I need…I need to…I have to go," he stammered, running out of the room. Penelope ran after him and watched him sprint down the hallway.

"Where is he going?" she asked Madam Pomfrey. "What is he doing?"

Madam Pomfrey smiled after him gently. "He's doing what any good big brother would do," she answered simply, moving back to Snape. "So he's still sleeping soundly is he?"

It occurred to Percy as he was running out of the Ministry that he had even neglected to tell Fudge where he was going.

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The seven people inside the small pantry did not see the dawn rise, but they could feel it. Everyone seemed to become brighter, more alert, and more ready to move. "So where do we go?" Alicia asked quietly.

"I think we could go to…to the Order's place," George said after a fierce look from Harry. "Oh wait…you girls can't get in, you don't have the proper clearance." He grimaced as he thought over this. "Well, I suppose that we could take you there and then wait while Dumbledore clears you…" His face went deep into concentration.

"We'll figure it out when we get there, can we just go?" Angelina asked anxiously. Being shut up in the small room had made her nervous.

Harry had his hand on the doorknob when he heard it: footsteps were coming towards the door. He shrank back, automatically bringing out his wand. A voice in the back of his head was reminding him of all the Underage Wizarding Laws he had broken, but he figured that if it was a choice between receiving another hearing or getting killed he would gladly take the hearing.

"Is someone coming?" Alicia whispered. Harry nodded quickly and Angelina and Alicia took the front line. Harry noticed that the tall Black girl was slightly trembling on her feet, either from nervousness or from sheer exhaustion. This did not send a great deal of confidence to his heart.

"Get ready," Angelina whispered as she watched the doorknob. There was a muffled cry as the person trying to open it was shocked by whatever charm Alicia had put on the door. Harry could hear the person saying the Alohamora Charm to no avail. Many Unlocking Charms were said in succession with no success at all. Harry could hear the tone of voice becoming very annoyed.

There was finally a Charm that seemed to work. Deep purple light spread over the door, coating the blue. When the purple faded, it took the blue with it and the door stood empty once more. This time the doorknob turned quickly and with ease.

The door was not even open before Angelina was moving. She shoved the door open with her shoulder, sprinting through the small opening. Her elbow was immediately in the intruder's stomach, with her wand at his throat. She ran forward until she pinned him against the wall. It might have been Harry's imagination, but he fancied that he saw a small bit off ceiling fall down when Angelina and the intruder collided with the wall.

Harry's first doubts appeared when he heard the intruder give a very un-Death Eater-like shriek. They grew when he saw the lack of a black cloak which seemed to be required of all Death Eaters and were cemented when he saw the vivid red hair. "Angelina, stop it!" he yelled, running forward and pulling her arm away. Angelina resisted him, but jumped away when she realized who it was.

George burst out of the room, but stopped dead when he looked upon the face of the intruder. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he spat at his older brother.

Percy bit his lip and looked down at the ground. This was the first time he had seen either of the twins since he had walked out last summer. He should have expected this reaction; he should have been ready for it. He would have expected it from the twins more than anyone else. Perhaps Ginny would have given it to him as well. It saddened him as he realized that he didn't know what Ginny would do. He had missed so much of his youngest sibling's years growing up.

"I heard something about Fred being hurt," he muttered. "I…I had to see you, I had to know that you were all right. I went to Dad's office, but Perkins said that he had left earlier without a word. The Burrow was the first place that I thought of…" Percy shook his head. "I Apparated here, and I saw the house…there were these bloody big holes in the side of the house, and no one was here…I didn't know what had happened, I didn't know where you were, I thought you were dead, and all I could think of was that if you died, you would have died without me ever seeing you again…without me apologizing…"

Percy suddenly lunged forward and wrapped George in a tight hug. George stiffened, but after a few seconds awkwardly patted Percy on the back. Percy squeezed George tighter until he was choking. "Percy…" George gasped out. "I…can't…breathe…" Percy quickly let go of George, letting the former Beater regain his breath in deep, rasping pants.

Percy seemed to recover some of his natural dignity and straightened his horn-rimmed glasses. "Well," he coughed, scratching his nose, "where's Fred?"

"He's in the pantry," Alicia said, giving Percy a wary glance. Percy's eyes flicked over the children gathered at the small place. He then followed Alicia into the pantry.

Percy squinted when he first entered, trying to make his eyes adjust to the sudden loss of light. When his eyes did adjust he looked around. The first thing he saw was his other twin brother lying on the ground, his face horribly pale. Percy gasped and ran over to Fred. He did not shake him, as he thought that might be a rather bad idea. "Fred!" Percy yelled.

"We think he got hit by a Dark Curse, but we don't know which one," Angelina said unhelpfully. "It's not like what we've seen before."

"I don't remember this one either," Percy said, worry evident in his voice.

"Harry promises us that it's not fatal," Angelina said, biting her lip anxiously. "But he also says that it might be more powerful than the one that Hermione got hit with last year, since it probably had spoken words along with the wand movement. The only thing we know is that we have to get them out of here."

"Them?" Percy whispered to himself. He turned around, and his stomach seemed to flip over three times. A pale light shone on Oliver's waxy face. His mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes were shut, the dark lashes looking unnatural against the pale skin. It seemed strange to Percy that the former Quidditch captain, who had always been so active, was now incapable of moving.

Angelina's face grew dark as she noticed where Percy was looking. "We need to get them both out of here," she said softly. "If we don't…we may lose Oliver," she whispered, trying to keep her composure. "WE don't know where to take them. We were supposed to come back here, but no one was here when we got here."

"I found this on the front stoop," Percy said, taking something out of his robe pocket. He held it out to Angelina. "I don't know what this means, but hopefully it'll help." Angelina took it and examined it closely. Her face lit up in joy and she burst out into the crowded hallway.

"This is a phoenix feather!" she said gleefully. "Do you know what this means?"

"No," George said matter-of-factly. "What does it mean?"

Angelina seemed to deflate. It became apparent that none of them knew the particular significance of the phoenix feather. "It obviously means that the Order's been in touch with us, but what exactly are they trying to tell us?" Katie wondered.

Harry thought for a moment, his brain slowly working around a solution. "Well…if the Order's not here anymore…and they left this for us to find…wouldn't it make sense that they were trying to tell us that they'd moved their location?" Everyone turned and looked at Harry in surprise. "And there's only one other place that I know of that would be big enough to house as many people as what the Order needs." Harry shared a significant look with George, the only other person present who knew what Harry was talking about. Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Percy looked lost.

"Come on," George said gruffly. He seized Fred under the arms and hoisted his unconscious body up. Without waiting for permission, Percy moved forward and grabbed Fred's legs. He glared at anyone who might disagree with his right to help his younger brother.

"All right," Katie grunted as she helped Angelina with Oliver. They managed to make it out of the room and into the main drawing room with their burdens.

"All right, someone's going to have to make a Portkey," George said, setting Fred down gently. Everyone looked around and then looked back at him.

"George, you're going to have to make it," Alicia said gently. "You and Harry are the only ones that know where we're going, and Harry's not allowed to use magic."

"Well, I already have," Harry said gloomily. Everyone looked at him in shock. "During the battle, I used a lot of Charms. So I might as well make the Portkey, but I have no idea how." All heads turned to George again.

George felt himself break out into a cold sweat. Everyone was looking at him, depending upon him to get them there. He contemplated Apparating and never going back, but then he looked down at Fred. Fred needed this. If he didn't come through, then Fred could die.

George took a deep breath and tried to concentrate, blocking out all of the negative voices inside his head. He and Fred had always been the troublemakers, the ones who never concentrated on schoolwork. And even out of the two of them, Fred had always been the one to master the spells before him. If there was a difficult spell Fred would have it under control before George would. George shook his head slightly, took a deep breath, and then opened his eyes.

He concentrated hard on the square outside of the Order Headquarters. "Portus!" he shouted loudly. A jet of golden light hit the object that he was aiming at, a medium vase on one of the tables that was still standing. The vase was coated in gold light and then it returned to its normal shade. George lowered his wand. He had no right to be breathing this heavily, especially when others his age could set up a Portkey without any trouble at all.

Alicia smiled happily. "Good job George," she said sincerely. "That was a nice bit of wand work there." George ducked his head to hide his flush of pleasure at the compliment from one of the smartest witches in his year. "OK, everyone grab hold!" Alicia took hold of the Portkey herself, still holding a tight grip on Oliver's wrist. She felt a tug behind her navel and hoped that George's spell work was as good as what she hoped it would be.

She felt herself speeding through the air and then landing. She staggered, but still managed to keep her balance. Harry and Katie were not so lucky, and plowed straight into the hard cobblestone ground. Alicia winced in shared pain as they gathered themselves back up. "All right, what are we supposed to be looking for?" Angelina asked, looking around the square.

"Wait here," Harry ordered, walking forward. George went with him, sparing a glance back at Fred. Harry took a deep breath and walked forward towards the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. The last time that he had been here Sirius was here…could he stay here knowing that Sirius had been here? Would he be able to handle the repercussions of his actions?

Harry looked at the door, and without waiting for an opportunity to talk himself out of his actions, he walked forward into the Headquarters. George followed closely after. Harry quietly shut the door behind him. The house seemed unnaturally quiet. Surely there had to be someone here? What if they had guessed wrong and no one was here?

His doubts were proved to be wrong as he heard a gasp from behind him. "HARRY!" he heard Hermione cry out. The next thing he knew, Hermione had flung herself at him and was tightly squeezing his neck. Ron came running up behind her. Though he did not throw himself at Harry, there was a look on his face that suggested that he sorely wanted to. He settled for embracing George instead. He then stepped away and looked around. "Where's the others then?" he asked, with a small amount of trepidation in his voice.

"They're outside," George said. "Remember, we have the girls, and they can't get in unless Dumbledore tells them where this place is. Speaking of, where is Dumbledore?"

"Right here," a voice said. Dumbledore emerged from the kitchen. He was followed by Remus. Lupin seemed to deflate as he saw Harry. "It's good to see that you've returned. Now, as I understand, we need to include several more people on the list for those who know where the Headquarters are located?"

"Yes sir," Harry said quickly. "I know that you can trust all of them. They just need to know where it is." Dumbledore nodded and took out a small piece of paper. In loopy handwriting that Harry recognized he quickly wrote the location of the Headquarters.

"Give this to them," Dumbledore said, handing the paper to Harry. "Give this to all of them," he said with more significance to George. George gazed open-mouthed at Dumbledore before managing to nod. _How does he know? _George wondered to himself. _How in the world does he always manage to know these kinds of things? _

Harry and George walked out again. In their absence, someone had conjured two stretchers, and had levitated Fred and Oliver onto them. All heads turned towards them when they came outside. "Where'd you come from?" Katie asked bemusedly.

"Never mind that," George said roughly. "Here. Just look at that." He handed the piece of paper around, until everyone had seen it. "Do you have it memorized?" when everyone nodded he took out his wand and quickly burned it. "All right, just concentrate on what you just read and the Charm should take effect." He turned around and looked at the Headquarters. Others turned around and looked with him. He heard several soft gasps behind him as they all saw the large house disappear.

Alicia flicked her wand and the stretchers went floating forward. George opened the door and stood aside as the stretchers went inside. Everyone went inside, those who were new to the house looking around them in astonishment. Harry was looking around in remembrance. Almost every small thing reminded him of Sirius…he had stood there, he had talked about that, and it was there that he had exterminated a doxy…

"Harry? Fred? George?" Mrs. Weasley's anxious voice could be heard coming down the stairs. She saw George and Harry and sprinted down the stairs, wrapping them both in a tight hug. "Oh, I thought you two were dead…but where's Fred?" she asked anxiously, her face going back to blatant worry once more. She looked down at the stretchers and then let out a stricken gasp. "Oh Fred," she whispered softly, her hand going to cup her son's cheek.

Mr. Weasley came right behind his wife. He looked sadly at the face of his son, and then looked around. His eyes noted Oliver's limp body, as did Dumbledore's. He was looking around once more when he caught sight of another head of red hair. He squinted and then stiffened as he realized just who that hair belonged to. Mrs. Weasley tore herself away from Fred to see what her husband was staring so intently at. She gasped softly when she saw Percy standing alone by the door, sadly staring at his parents.

"Sorry," he finally whispered. Mr. Weasley drew his wife close to him, as if he wanted to protect her from Percy. "I just heard about the twins…and decided that I would go and help them. I'll go now," he said, turning around and putting his hand on the doorknob. Mrs. Weasley finally found her voice.

"Percy!" she cried out, her voice sounding strangled. Percy turned to look at his mother. Ginny appeared from behind her parents and peered out at him. Mrs. Weasley moved forward and awkwardly seized her son about the neck. Percy stiffened and then accepted his mother's embrace. When they broke apart Percy took a step back.

"I'll see you later," he whispered as he walked out of the house. Ron stared darkly after his brother.

"I'll bet he will," he snarled. "WE let him into the house. I wouldn't be surprised if he brings half a dozen Ministry Employees straight in here." To everyone's surprise, it was George who shushed his younger brother.

"I don't think so Ronniekins," he said, staring at the door. "Somehow I think that the Bighead Boy can actually feel guilt for his actions." He seemed to come to himself and then looked down at the two stretchers. "Where are we going to put these two?"

"Well we already set up a bed for Oliver," Hermione said. "We weren't expecting anyone else, but we can set up another bed fairly quickly." She went upstairs, and Ron and Harry followed her. She walked into an abandoned room which had a bed in the middle of it. She quickly pulled up another bed and started fixing the sheets.

"What happened with Percy?" she asked, seeing the ugly look on Ron's face. Harry sat down on the empty bed and shrugged.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "He was there this morning…seemed dead worried about Fred and George to tell you the truth. He wouldn't leave Fred's side once he found out what had happened to him. Seemed rather worried about Oliver as well. Perhaps he's regretting his choice."

"He made his bed, he can sleep in it," Ron said, making a violent gesture with his hands. "He had all last year to see how wrong he was, and he didn't. As far as I'm concerned, I can ignore him better than he ignored us last year." Hermione gave a look to Harry as if to say "It's pointless". Harry took the hint and gave up.

As soon as Hermione had finished making the second bed, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came in. they were followed by Oliver and Fred, and then Alicia who was levitating the stretchers into the room. She stopped them and let the Weasley parents take the two boys off and lay them flat onto the bed.

"We'll call Madam Pomfrey in here at once," Mrs. Weasley said, anxiously fluttering around. "She'll know what to do with these curses…she'll know what to do…" she walked out of the room, anxiously muttering to herself and wringing her hands together. Mr. Weasley gave the children a sympathetic look and followed her out.

Harry looked sadly at the two unconscious figures on the bed. "Poor Mrs. Weasley," he said. Ron stared at Fred, obviously disturbed. Harry was thinking of Mrs. Weasley's boggart last year, and how it had taken the shape of a dead Fred and George. Part of her worst fears had to be taking place right now with one of her sons unconscious from a Dark Curse. The mention of the curse brought something that Harry had been wondering about to the center of his mind.

"Hermione, I know this is a stupid question, but do you have any remembrance of what happened last year in the Department of Mysteries? You know, when you were hit with that curse?" Hermione shook her head sadly.

"I'm sorry Harry," she said softly. "I don't remember anything except being hit with it and then waking up in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will come though, and she's never failed to sort anyone out."

Katie, Angelina, Alicia, and Ginny came into the room. They were quickly followed by Bill, Charlie, Remus, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley conjured chairs as it became apparent that all of them were going to sit vigil by the bedsides. When Madam Pomfrey arrived information was volunteered, as much as could be remembered. She puttered around, casting charms over both of the bodies.

When George demanded to know what was taking so long, she responded with her normal snappy tone. "It takes some time to discover exactly what the problem is with these curses Mr. Weasley! And when I do not know what has happened to Mr. Wood it might take even more time! Now please be silent and allow me to work!" George sank back into his seat, effectively silenced.

Only Angelina noticed when Katie got up from her seat. She followed the younger girl until Katie reached the door. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked, leaning up against the wall. Katie jumped and then turned around.

"I can't stay there any longer," she said quietly. "It just feels like a tomb or a hospital room or something. It's suffocating me. I just need to take a walk and get some fresh air." Angelina bit her lip tightly.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," she said with some hesitation. "I'm sure that at least one Death Eater caught a glimpse of your face when we were fighting. If they recognized you when you were walking around London who's to say that they wouldn't cast a curse at you?"

"Angelina, I can take care of myself," Katie said patiently. "I have an aunt that lives in London remember? I know all of the back alleys. If I see something suspicious I'll duck into one of those, all right?" Her pleading look was finally enough to convince Angelina.

"Be careful!" Angelina yelled after Katie. "If you see anything suspicious run straight back here! They can't find us so don't worry about it!" Katie waved and Angelina closed the door. "I probably did the wrong thing," she whispered to herself.

Katie set off at a slow jog once she was free of the Headquarters. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew that she was getting as far away from that place as she could. She had always hated hospital rooms, and this was no exception. Though it might be officially called a bedroom, the place where they were keeping Oliver and Fred was a hospital room.

Oliver and Fred…two of her friends had already fallen victim to the curses of Death Eaters…three if you counted Cedric Diggory. How many more would fall? How many members of the Order would be lying dead now that Voldemort was back? Katie shook her head and started to jog faster. It had not been until she had made the Quidditch team in her second year that she had liked running. Oliver had instilled that habit in her, he had said that it would make her a better Chaser…and she had to face it, if he told her that lighting her hair on fire would make her a better Chaser she would have done it.

Katie suddenly came to a doorstep. She looked up at where her feet had taken her and was astonished to see an old Muggle church rising above her. It was one of the old Gothic churches, with tall spirals and steeples. It seemed out of place in this corner of London. Something about the church intrigued Katie, and she decided to push open the door and go inside.

The atmosphere inside was just as closed off as the ones in Grimmauld Place, yet it was a comforting stillness. There was no one else in the sanctuary, which meant that Katie was allowed to wander at will. She looked around the dark church; just to be sure that no one was hiding in the shadows. When she had ascertained that she was indeed alone, she walked up to the prayer table. There was a candle that was not lit lying flat on the table. Katie took another lit candle and put the wicks together. Her candle flared up with a sudden light and Katie set it on the table. She knelt down and hoped that she hadn't forgotten how to do this.

Though she was a half-blood, her mother's mother was a pure Muggle. She was an Irish Catholic who prayed her rosary every day and who would die before denying the infallibility of the Pope. When Katie was just a little girl she had taken her and taught her the proper prayers that an Irish Catholic needed to know. Katie had committed these to memory, but when her Hogwarts letters came her prayers somehow got left between Charms and Transfiguration and were somehow forgotten. But now she had great need of them again. Katie clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.

"Our father who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name," she whispered softly. "By Kingdom come, thy will be done" _Please, please, please let him be all right, please let Oliver be all right _"On Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and lead us not into temptation" _Please let him be all right, don't let him die, please let him wake up _"But forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us" _How can you forgive a Death Eater? How could I ever forgive anyone who hurt Oliver? _"For thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory, for now and forever. Amen." Katie finished the prayer and collapsed into tears, the candles burning brightly above her.

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It felt as if he was lying in some sort of thick liquid. He halfway wondered whether he had been sucked into a pile of bubotuber pus, and then decided that if he had been his skin would have been on fire by now. But it was difficult to move his hands, his feet, or any part of his body for that matter. A prickle of alarm sounded at the back of his mind as he tried to move some part of his body. Nothing would move.

He started to fight harder against his unseen and unfelt bonds. Harder, harder, harder…until they broke.

Alicia had fallen asleep in her chair in Oliver and Fred's room. Madam Pomfrey had assured them that Fred was going to be fine. She said that he had been hit with a rather nasty curse, but it was not fatal. It would require bed rest and he would be unable to run the shop for several weeks while recovering, but there would be no lasting effects. There had been many exclamations of joy at this statement. Mrs. Weasley had promptly gone downstairs to go and cook something.

Madam Pomfrey had not been so optimistic on Oliver. Her only comment had been that she would wait and see. Alicia was the only person that had stayed in the room. Everyone else did not feel like waiting around for who knew how long for an event that may or may not happen. Even Madam Pomfrey had left with the onset of night. She had determined that she could do nothing more. By now the night had gathered around them, leaving the room dark with almost zero visibility. Alicia shook her head angrily at herself and grabbed her wand tightly.

She was supposed to be here for Oliver, not falling asleep! What kind of friend was she that fell asleep while sitting vigil at a bedside? She could not help being angry with herself, though she knew that part of her sleepiness was not exactly her fault. She had not slept at all the previous night in the pantry. Alicia idly wondered where George, Harry, Katie, and Angelina were before she heard a low moan.

Her wand was immediately raised. Her eyes scanned the dark room, looking for a sign of anything suspicious. "This is stupid," she hissed to herself. "Lumos!" A faint light emitted from her wand, enabling her to see at least a little better than what she had been. She looked around the room and saw no one. "Who's there?" Alicia asked, her voice quavering somewhat. If she was going to have an attacker she would much rather see them.

The moan came again. Alicia found out from where it was coming and turned that way. Her heart skipped several beats when she realized that it was coming from the bed. She moved towards it, hardly daring to hope. Her hand stretched out to touch the soft brown hair. A soft breath was breathed out upon her hand. The head moved to the side, and the eyelids slowly fluttered.

They halfway opened and stared bemusedly around. Alicia let out a breath and then realized that she hadn't properly breathed in over two minutes. "Oliver?" she whispered in a voice that was almost breaking. He looked up in the direction of her voice and smiled faintly.

"Hello Alicia," he said in his wonderful, lilting Scottish brogue. "Fancy seeing you here."

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Ah, and Oliver's awake. Suddenly the world's all shiny again.

After I finished writing it I actually realized that I could leave the story off right here with a short epilogue. So just tell me what you think about it and I'll decide what to do from there. Sorry about the different perspectives, but I had to get Percy in there somewhere. If I do continue this, he and Penelope will be increasing in their importance. Anyway. Tell me what you think: to continue or not to continue, that is the question!

Alasse


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Sage

A/N: Wow, it's been a while, no? I read the story again and realized that there were just too many loose ends to end it where I had let it end. I know, I promised an epilogue and that was it, but I lied. Bad habit. There will probably be at least a few more chapters and then an epilogue. Thanks for sticking with me as we make our way down the final stretch.

Disclaimer: The REAL mistress of Hogwarts has come out with another title. This is just my pathetic attempt to be like her.

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"George, no, stop it!" This was yelled out in a kind of laughing gasp, the kind that one hears when a person is being tickled. Fred looked up in amusement as Ginny and Katie came running into the hospital wing and shut the door. Their faces were flushed and lit up with happiness. "Sorry," Katie breathlessly apologized. Fred amiably nodded.

"George was trying to test out some of your nifflers on Katie's earrings," Ginny explained, a slightly surly look on her face. Fred could tell that she was still amused however. "Sorry if we made a large disturbance."

"No, I think a large disturbance is exactly what our dear Captain needs," Fred said, gesturing to the bed beside him. Oliver was curled into a tight ball, still asleep even through Katie's and Ginny's loud entrance. Katie shook her head good-naturedly.

"We'd better let him sleep some," she said quietly. "He's been through a lot after all. What about you?" she asked, turning on Fred. "When has Madam Pomfrey said that you can get out of bed?"

"She hasn't," Fred said grumpily. He folded his arms much like a petulant child. A mischievous grin came onto his face. "It's been a week since I was hurt…I suppose that I could try to get out of this bed and walk around a bit…after all, if she's not here then I might as well try to heal my own self."

"Is she still with Snape?" Ginny curiously asked. Fred nodded and then tried to push himself up out of bed. "Fred, I don't think that you should try to do that," Ginny warned. Fred shook her off with a wave of his hand.

"Ginny, don't bother me," he told her repressively. There was tightness around his jaw however, that betrayed how much pain he was in. he managed to push himself to the edge of the bed. "Come here Katie," he told her, motioning her over to my side. "As much as it pains me to admit, I am no longer able to walk alone. I need you as a shield in case my dear brother comes by and tries to take advantage of my crippled state."

Katie let a small smile slip off despite her best efforts and let Fred put his arm around her shoulder. She supported some of his weight and helped him walk out of the room. Ginny followed them, shaking her head slowly. The door closed and silence returned to the room.

When Oliver was sure that they had left the room he raised his head. It had been so hard in convincing Fred that he was asleep. The twin was so used to the art of deception that it was hard to fake being asleep. Now he could finally be alone in his misery.

Oliver sighed deeply and rolled over onto his back. He was safe now, something in his mind knew that, but he could still not force himself to relax. Every single time that he did, he saw in his mind those red eyes, the flattened face, heard the high-pitched voice and he sat straight up, sweating in terror.

So there was that, and his guilt keeping him awake late at night. He knew that he had done something awful, but he could not remember it. So he stayed in the room, the unknown guilt eating away at his innards. He suspected that they all looked at him with disgust and revulsion and nursed him back to health only to take him up and charge him. He even saw repugnance lurking in the kind eyes of Molly Weasley and in the steadfast eyes of Alicia.

And then there was the memory that he knew would stay in the back of his mind for the rest of his days. Of seeing his parents murdered…murdered because of him. No matter what anyone else told him, Oliver knew that he had killed his parents as surely as if he had spoken the Killing Curse. He felt the harsh sting of tears in his eyes and immediately tried to blink them back. _"Ah, it's just a skinned knee then? Come on Ollie. Real men never cry."_ His father's voice echoed within his mind, bringing back childhood memories. Each memory unlocked a specific event, which made him want to curl up and wail with despair.

He was so caught up in his misery that he did not hear the door open. It was too late when he realized what had happened. He attempted to close his eyes and look like he had been caught slumbering, but it was too late. "Wood, stop pretending," Alicia said sternly. "I know that you're faking. You weren't cut out for lying."

Oliver rolled over and cracked open an eyelid. "Go away," he mumbled to her. Alicia raised an eyebrow and then sat down beside his bed.

"No, I don't think I will," she said calmly, primly folding her hands in her lap. Oliver glared at her, but knew that he was powerless to make her go away. Alicia sat with him but found herself at a loss for things to say. She knew what had happened to his parents, anything that she could say here would be stupid at best, needlessly cruel at worse.

"Do you need anything?" she finally settled for saying. Oliver shook his head and tried to bury himself in his covers. Alicia felt her heart touched with pity and she reached out to touch his shoulder. "Oliver, don't do this to yourself," Alicia pleaded, feeling her chest tighten as she watched the tears start to come down his face.

"I cannae stop," Oliver gasped out, the tears still coming down his face. "They're dead…oh God Alicia you didn't have to see it played out in front of you…" Oliver's shoulders shook, though no tears ran down his face. Alicia walked over to his bed and enveloped him into a tight hug. She was careful of his injuries, not squeezing too hard in the places that she knew were hurt.

Oliver tensed when he felt Alicia's arms around him and then relaxed into her embrace. She soothed him much as a mother would, rocking him back and forth. Oliver began to feel upset with himself as he found that he could not stop the huge hiccupping sobs that kept on racking his body, making him wince in pain.

Alicia looked up in horror as the door opened; scared to death that Katie and Angelina, or worse, the twins had found them in this awkward position. It was Madam Pomfrey who entered however, and she seemed to take Oliver's sobbing in stride. "Now, now dear," she said soothingly, prying Alicia away from Oliver.

Oliver looked at the Medi-Witch, familiar with her after all of the time he had spent in her hospital wing during his time in Hogwarts. "Come on, drink this up," she said briskly, offering him a cup. Oliver took the cup and looked at it dubiously before swallowing it in one large gulp. He choked and coughed as the potion went down, burning his throat like whiskey. "There, it'll be all right," Madam Pomfrey said. Oliver sank back down into his bed, his eyes already growing heavy.

"Just rest Wood," he could hear Alicia saying from a long way away. "Just rest. I'll be here when you wake up." Oliver wanted to say something else, but he could not find the strength to get the words out, or even to find out what he wanted to say. Before he could say anything at all, he was already asleep.

"What was the potion that you gave him?" Alicia asked curiously as the Keeper settled into his peaceful sleep. Madam Pomfrey corked the bottle and put it back within a cabinet.

"It's a potion for dreamless sleep that helps to heal the body as well. Our own Professor Snape made it a few years ago, and it's been outstandingly helpful for healing Aurors who were hurt in the line of duty." Madam Pomfrey looked sadly on Oliver and moved one of his hands so that it was resting on his chest. "His body is young and strong and can heal itself easily enough with the proper rest…but his mind…alas, I fear that his mind has taken a severe beating and shall not be easily healed."

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George had to admit, he had been surprised when Fred had come through the door. He was in the main sitting room of Grimmauld Place and all of a sudden his twin was in the room with him. It was a joyful reunion, and one that made him feel that Fred was finally rejoining the regular world of the living. Of course, Hermione had come in just when they were starting to go over some of their new things for the shop and demanded that Fred go back to bed. Fred had protested and groaned, but had ultimately given in when Hermione threatened to call Mrs. Weasley.

Fred went back to bed, disgusted and appalled that Hermione would use such a low method against him. "I tell you what, not even Percy ever threatened to do that," Fred said breathlessly as he got back into bed. Unfortunately, Hermione was walking by his room when Fred said that.

"I've been hit with that curse, and it wasn't even at the full-force!" she exclaimed to him, her eyes wide and her voice breathless with indignation. "You were hit with a very powerful curse; you should stay in bed for as long as Madam Pomfrey says!" Fred rolled his eyes but obediently sank back into his pillows.

"Is she gone?" he asked. George checked outside and nodded. Fred sighed and spoke again. "That Hermione's a nice girl and all, but she's just a tad bit too bossy," he spoke frankly. "I think we should warn ickle Ronniekins about that, don't you?" George's face cracked into an identical evil grin as he slowly nodded.

The twins glanced over towards Oliver's bed. "Is he asleep?" Fred asked. George once more got up and walked over to Oliver's bed.

"Yeah," he reported, watching the Keeper's closed eyes and his even steady breathing. It was relieving to see him breathing so steadily since his breathing had been erratic and pained because of his broken rib. "This is the first steady sleep he's had in quite a while," George commented, sitting back down next to Fred's bed.

"Yeah," Fred said, sitting up with a grunt of pain. "Well, I wouldn't worry about Oliver. He'll be up in no time; you know what he was like during school. He would get hurt and then he would be up within a few weeks. It's nothing to worry about."

George looked at Oliver with a rare serious expression upon his face. "Somehow I don't think that this is as minor as all of those injuries," he whispered softly.

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It was in the middle of the night when Katie woke up from the scream. She sat upright in bed, her heart now pounding with adrenaline. Her first thought was to reach for her wand. Ever since the encounter with the Death Eaters she had kept it close by her side. They knew who she was and where she lived, they could come to her house whenever they wanted.

She looked over at Angelina and she saw her same fear reflected in the older black girl's eyes. The scream came again, hoarse, pain-filled. This time however, Katie could recognize a distinct Scottish brogue in the voice. Her eyes locked onto Angelina's and they both said the same word together: "Oliver."

They seized their wands and ran upstairs. Along the way they met Fred and George. It was only then that Angelina realized that she was in her rather thin pajamas in front of the twins. She blushed in embarrassment, but then she heard the scream again. By this time the entire house was up. Mrs. Weasley rushed up through the mass of people. "Let me through, let me through," she said, fumbling with the door to Oliver's and Fred's room for a moment before wrenching it open.

What greeted their eyes was a nightmare scene. Oliver was arching up from the bed, his mouth wide open in a scream of agony, his face frozen into an expression of terror and misery. Mrs. Weasley ran to his bed and tried to pin him back down on the bed. He surged back up again with an enormous burst of strength, nearly knocking Mrs. Weasley back onto the floor. She came back, pushing against both of his arms and trying to restrain him so that he would not inflict any further damage upon himself.

He arched up and screamed yet again. "Oliver dear, Oliver!" Mrs. Weasley cried out to him, trying to get him out of this terrible dream. "It's only a dream dear, it's only a dream! Oliver!" she shouted at him, her voice raised as high as any of her children had ever heard it raised. Oliver finally opened his eyes. They were bloodshot and wild and for a second Katie thought that he was going to attack Mrs. Weasley. His muscles were certainly tensed enough to. Then he looked around, recognized where he was and relaxed. The second that he stopped being on the alert for enemies was the one that he crumpled.

Katie had been around Oliver enough to know when he was defeated, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Now was the worst she had ever seen him. It was more of a mental breakdown than anything. She could somehow see his body crumple, though his shoulders remained upright and straight. Katie could suddenly tell that Oliver was about to break down and she suddenly did not want to be anywhere near him when it happened.

"Come on, come on, let's go," she whispered, pushing against Fred and George to get outside of the room. The twins looked at her in surprise and then looked even more surprised as Angelina grabbed their sleeves and pulled them forcibly out of the room.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Fred asked, leaning against the wall, unable to support his weight. Katie looked at him with pity and sadness in her eyes.

"Fred, you've known Oliver longer than I have most likely," she said in a calm voice. "Have you ever seen him cry?" Fred slowly shook his head. "Do you want to start now?" Realization came into Fred's eyes and he shook his head rapidly. "I didn't think so," Katie said in a defeated tone. "Come on. I don't think we're going to get any more sleep tonight. You can come back to our room."

Mrs. Weasley held the trembling form of Oliver close to her. "It's all right, it's all right," she soothed him. "It's going to be all right, you just need to breathe." Oliver's breath caught and wheezed in and out of his broken body. "I promise you, everything's going to be all right," Mrs. Weasley said, rubbing his back gently. She swayed back and forth until she had rocked Oliver into an uneasy sleep once more.

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Time passed and slowly the Order of the Phoenix, especially its younger members, began to resume life at a normal level once more. The return of the star Puddlemere Keeper, Oliver Wood caused great celebration in the sporting world. He was reintroduced at a press conference and refused to comment on his whereabouts. However, all of the reporters that were present noted his pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes and his sudden drop in weight and made up their own story about where he had been. Harry whistled as he read some that had struck just too close to the truth.

"All right, either these people work for You-Know-Who, or they're psychic," Ron said, supporting what Harry was thinking. "Either way it's creepy and we should investigate them further." Hermione folded up her newspaper and sighed.

'Honestly Ron, they're reporters, they do these kinds of things for a living," Hermione said impatiently. "I would be more surprised if they said that he had been kidnapped by ancient pirates." She looked at Oliver's picture on the front page of the Daily Prophet. "He does look tired though, doesn't he?" she whispered. "I just hope that he gets some sleep soon." She looked down at the front page and clicked her tongue at Oliver's appearance. Though he was smiling, it was a forced smile that somehow stretched his face too widely. His eyes were shadowed and haunted, and there was a certain weariness in his face that would not diminish, no matter how much time had passed. "I just hope that someone can get through to him," Hermione mumbled, so soft that no one caught her words.

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Katie woke up and looked at the ceiling. In two days she would go back to Hogwarts for her final year. All of her school stuff had been retrieved the day before in Diagon Alley, and she was lost for a way to spend her second to last day of summer. She eventually rolled over onto her side and got up, stretching to relieve the ache in her bones. All of the people that Dumbledore had called to the Weasleys' had just decided to stay there until the beginning of the school year.

Katie wandered down the stairs, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She sat down at the table and stared ahead for a minute. "Hello dear, had a nice sleep?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly as she set down some toast in front of Katie. Katie looked up at her and slowly nodded. "How would you like your eggs?" Mrs. Weasley asked, going to stand in front of the stove.

Katie answered her, while watching as Angelina and Alicia walked down the stairs. "So, we noticed that it was your second to last day here," Angelina said as a way of opening up the conversation. Katie slowly nodded, wondering where this was going to lead. "Well, we thought as a fun way to spend the day, why don't we go down to London and see everyone's favorite Keeper? He's still not back full time for Puddlemere and I think he'd enjoy the company."

Katie smiled and nodded. After breakfast Alicia, Angelina, and Katie each took a handful of Floo Powder. "I'll see you girls later, all right?" Mrs. Weasley said, smiling benevolently. Katie nodded, and threw her Floo Powder in the fireplace.

"The Leaky Cauldron," she shouted as she stepped in. she felt the familiar spinning and then her feet slammed into the ground. She crawled out of the fireplace just in time as Angelina came flying in after her. Alicia shortly followed and then they went along their way.

"He gave me the address," Angelina said, taking out a small piece of paper and squinting at it. "It should be just over here." She walked briskly down a street with such confidence that Alicia and Katie couldn't help but follow her. "It should be this one right here," Angelina said after ten minutes, stopping in front of a fairly nice flat. They stared at it for a few minutes before Alicia took the first step. She walked up and rapped sharply on the door before she could stop herself.

Katie and Angelina walked up the steps to join her on the stoop. A big smile spread across Angelina's face as she saw the door opening. She was unable to stop her jaw dropping at the sight that greeted her eyes when the door opened fully, however.

A woman was standing in the door, dressed in a men's button down shirt, her pale blue eyes still bleary with sleep. It was bad enough that she was standing in the doorway, but it was just wasn't any normal woman standing in the doorway. She had to be the most gorgeous woman that Katie had ever seen. She was small and petite with a thick, shoulder length mane of shiny black hair. Her skin tone was pale, which made her hair seem even more vibrant. In contrast with her hair colour, her eyes were the palest shade of blue that Katie had ever seen. She smiled as she looked at them.

"Can I help you?" she asked them in a soft voice. _Great, _Katie thought to herself. _She even sounds nice. The second worst thing in the world is Miss Perfect the Bitch, the absolute worst thing in the world is Miss Perfect the Nicest Girl in the World. _

"We're looking for Oliver," Alicia said. She seemed to have recovered the power of speech first. Katie glanced at Angelina. She was still staring rudely, her mouth hanging open in astonishment. "I think we have the wrong house. Sorry. We'll just be going now." She turned to go down the steps, but was stopped by the woman's gentle laugh.

"Oh, you have the right house. Oliver's just coming out now. He's a late sleeper you know, I can't do anything with him," she laughingly confided with a wink. "But we have to be able to forgive him of several flaws, don't we?" she said, her voice and demeanor suddenly becoming serious. "After what he went through, I can't imagine, he won't talk about it-oh, here he is now!" she said brightly, gesturing to the hallway behind her.

It was definitely Oliver Wood that appeared behind her, dressed in a pair of Puddlemere United sweatpants and a simple white shirt. He was wiping his face with a towel and he glanced at their way. His face registered surprise at seeing his three former Chasers standing on his doorstep. His brown eyes flickered towards the woman standing inside his house and towards Katie, Angelina, and Alicia before he did anything.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized, the politeness with which he had been raised dictating what he must do. "I should introduce you. Sage, these are my three former Chasers that were on the team when I was in school. Katie, Angelina, Alicia," he said, indicating each one as he said their name, "this is Sage." He did not say the words "my girlfriend" but they knew that was what was meant in the undertone of his words.

"Well, come on in," Sage said brightly. "Are you in London for the day?" Angelina finally snapped out of her trance to answer her question.

"Yeah, and we thought that we'd just walk around a little bit, and see some old friends," Angelina said slowly. She still wore a gaze of unflattering disbelief as she looked at Oliver.

"Well, don't let me keep you," she said, still keeping up her cheerful air. "I'll just go slip into something less comfortable." As she walked past Oliver he shot an arm out and caught her around the waist and gave her a playful peck on the lips. She giggled and separated herself from his arms.

As soon as they were sure that Sage was out of earshot the three girls ran to Oliver and forced him down on the couch, careful to not be too rough in case of any remaining injuries. _Though if she's any indication, chances are that he's done some things that could injure himself even more, _Angelina thought to herself. That thought caused her stomach to churn and her face to register a look of disgust. Both were fortunately overlooked by Oliver.

"So, who is she? How did you meet?" These were just part of a barrage of questions that were fired off by Alicia. Katie was looking at Oliver with a searching look as he started to answer their numerous questions.

"Well, her name's Sage Cleaveland, but you already knew that. She's a Muggleborn that lived in France until three years ago; that's why we never saw her at Hogwarts. I met her at the Quidditch trials for Puddlemere. She's on the reserve Beater list."

"She's a Beater?" Katie asked in disbelief, speaking for the first time. "She doesn't look like she'd be able to swing the bat." Angelina nodded. From her experience with Beaters they tended to be large and muscular, not small and wiry.

"She's a Beater, and she's going to be a bloody great one once she gets a little more training," Oliver said proudly. Alicia snickered slightly. He looked at her in confusion. "What is it Spinnet?"

"Even your girlfriend has to be involved in Quidditch, doesn't she?" Alicia asked with a mischievous grin. Oliver grinned and rolled his eyes.

"Shut your mouth," he said good-naturedly. As Angelina began to lose her disbelieving look and he bantered playfully with both of them, Katie sank further into herself. Oliver didn't seem to notice that his youngest Chaser was diminishing into a small pool of shame on his couch as he laughed with Alicia.

Sage rejoined them after a few short minutes. She walked into the kitchen and quickly brewed a pot of tea. She brought it into the sitting room where the others were and poured out several cups. "Here you go Oliver," Sage said, holding out a cup of tea to him.

"Thank you darling," he said, a docile look in his eyes as he accepted the cup. She ran her fingers over his hand and Katie watched carefully. There was something that she didn't like here. Oliver took a deep drink of the soothing tea. Angelina blew on its surface gently before drinking. "Mmm, it's excellent, don't you agree?" he asked them.

"Yes, it's lovely," Alicia said, taking small polite sips. Sage blushed over the rim of her teacup. Katie defiantly left her teacup sitting on the table. No one seemed to notice and after they were done with the tea Sage Banished all of the cups into the kitchen.

"Well, no doubt you're busy so we'll just leave you to your lives," Alicia said after a few minutes had passed. Oliver got up from the couch lethargically and walked them to the door. "If you need anything you know where to find me," Alicia said, looking deep into his eyes. "I'm so sorry about everything," she whispered so softly that only Oliver could hear her.

"It's all right," he said, his eyes showing only contentment. "I've taken a few weeks off and I've realized that the best thing I can do is just to move along with my life. I can't spend my entire life wasting away." Alicia nodded in agreement.

"Good-bye!" he called to them, waving his arm slowly, his other arm around Sage. She smiled happily at them until they turned their backs and started to walk away. Oliver slowly closed the door and slumped back down to the couch again.

"Bloody hell I feel tired," he said out loud to himself. Sage grinned and sat on top of his lap.

"It couldn't possibly be anything that you did last night could it?" she asked him laughingly. Oliver chuckled softly and shook his head.

"I can think of one or two things it might have been," he said suggestively, leaning up, his lips seeking hers. She allowed him a short kiss and then pulled away.

"You have to get to practice," she reminded him. With regret Oliver pulled away.

"Practice be damned," he said sulkily. Sage lightly laughed and shook her head.

"Come now, the team needs you!" she said airily. "And I'll be there with you as well. Perhaps after practice we can make you nice and properly tired again. I like you after practice, all nice and sweaty," she said suggestively, leaning in close to his face. She pulled back abruptly, causing Oliver to groan aloud.

"You little minx," he said lowly in his Scottish brogue. She laughed and motioned with her hand.

"Off to practice with you. Away!" she playfully commanded. He was about to Apparate when she called him back. "By the way darling, who were those charming girls that came by to visit?"

"Oh, they were just school friends. Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. I thought I told you their names."

"You did, I just forgot them," Sage said. "Now go to practice. I just need to do a few things here and I'll join you." Oliver Disapparated and left Sage standing alone in the house.

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The three Chasers walked along the road in silence. "Might as well go to the Leaky Cauldron, grab a few drinks before heading back to the Burrow," Angelina finally said.

"Yeah, I was hoping we'd get to spend the entire day with him, but seeing as he has the girlfriend and the Quidditch job, I guess that plan's gone out the window," Alicia said with a slight smile. She looked at Katie in concern. "Katie, you're being awfully quiet. Is something wrong?"

Katie sighed and shrugged her shoulders heavily. "I always knew he'd end up with someone," she began, her voice sad and soft.

"You just thought that someone would be you," Angelina finished up her sentence sympathetically. Katie nodded. "Well Katie…" Angelina stopped as she realized that there was nothing she could say that would not sound patronizing.

"I don't like her," Katie said bluntly after a few moments of silence. "There's something wrong about her. I just…I don't like her."

"You're just saying that because you're jealous," Angelina said, dismissing her concerns with a wave of her hand. "She seemed perfectly nice to me. Any person who can make tea that well can't be bad."

"I'm going to have to agree with Angelina on this one," Alicia said, an indulgent smile on her face. "I think you're just biased in this regard." She walked along with Angelina, their arms intertwined, both of them laughing and smiling like there was nothing in the world. Katie stared after them in disbelief. She had never been so cleanly dismissed by her friends before, like her opinions didn't matter at all.

"Something's wrong with her," she said quietly to herself. "And I'm going to figure out what it is."

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The next morning it was time to go back to Hogwarts. Angelina, Alicia, Fred, and George, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Tonks and Lupin walked them to the train station. Mrs. Weasley fussed after everyone, making sure that no one had forgotten anything. In all of the confusion it was easy for Alicia to grab Katie's arm and to pull her aside.

"What do you want?" Katie asked sulkily. She still had not forgiven Alicia and Angelina for their betrayal yesterday.

"Listen, I believe you," Alicia said in a soft voice. Katie stared at her in confusion. "I pretended to go along with Angelina to see something. I had a hunch and I wanted to see if I was right."

"Were you?" Katie asked, her eyes wide. She was speaking in a whisper, though she was sure that they would not be overheard; the train station was as loud as it ever was. Alicia nodded.

"There's something the matter with her. I think it was the tea. Did you notice that you didn't drink any, and you remained suspicious? Oliver and Angelina did drink some and they were as happy and carefree as a Giggling Charm. I pretended to drink some, but I didn't drink any because there was a slight scent of cloves coming off of the tea. There shouldn't be cloves in tea. I think she's doing something. What it is, I don't know, but I think we should find out. Whatever she's doing it can't be good for Oliver."

"All right," Katie said, nodding her head furiously. "What do you want me to do?"

"I need to check out a few books, look around. Whatever she's doing it's interfering with Oliver's mind. I brought up his parents yesterday and he was perfectly fine about it. There was only contentment in his eyes. Katie…when was the last time that you knew Oliver to have nothing but happiness on his mind?"

Katie thought for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, you're right. What about Angelina? Have you talked to her yet?"

"I had a hard time convincing her until midnight. That was when all of a sudden she became much less happy and much more receptive to my words. I think she was supposed to be asleep by then so she wouldn't realize that the tea's effect had worn off, but I kept her up. She definitely thinks that something's wrong with her now."

Angelina walked over, followed by Fred and George. "We need to ask questions with the Order, see what we can find out on t his woman. Oliver said that she was in France, which means that she would have had to go to Beauxbaxtons. We can find out what she was like in school there, see if she had any records with potion brewing."

"Hopefully this is nothing more than a fangirl brewing a potion to make our lovely Mr. Wood stay with her," Fred said.

"Though why she'd want him would be out of our realm of reasoning," his twin added in, shaking his head in confusion. They both shrugged at the same time.

"You just stay at Hogwarts and keep your nose out of trouble," Alicia ordered. "When we find something out we'll contact you." The train whistle blew. Katie ran towards the train as it started to pull out of the station.

"Promise me that you'll owl the second you find anything out, anything at all!" she called back to them.

Angelina, Alicia, Fred and George all nodded enthusiastically. Katie pulled herself fully onto the train. By the time that she was inside the four had Disapparated.

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Just a short little note: this story is going to follow the storyline that I set out for it before HBP had come out. Just bear with me because I know it's going to be vastly different than the way that HBP turns out. So just imagine when you're reading it that I finished it before HBP came out.

Just a few more chapters so we can wrap everything up and then we'll be done!


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Betrayal and Bravery

A/N: After reading HBP, I seem to have rediscovered my love of writing the Harry Potter fanfiction. It's awesome, no? But yes. It's becoming hard to see how I can do this story, so it's just going to be AU from this point on. I can't say that I like disagreeing with canon, but I'm sure that I can forgive myself. Call it creative license.

Disclaimer: I own a book. And I own a computer. But that's about it.

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Angelina returned to her mother's house after seeing Katie and Harry off at Platform 9 ¾. She went back to the Burrow just to claim her luggage and then took the Portkey that members of the Order had made for her back to her house. Angelina's mother screamed when she heard the thump that meant that Angelina had returned. She went into the kitchen; her wand raised, but lowered it when she saw who had intruded into her house.

"Angie!" her mother cried, running to her daughter and enveloping her in her arms. Angelina clutched her mother tightly; fear coming over her at the thought that she had been very close to never seeing this woman again. The two women finally separated, her mother wiping tears out of her eyes.

"Can I make you a cup of tea?" her mother finally asked, her voice coming out in a small gasp. Angelina wordlessly nodded and sat down at the table. Her mother waved the wand vaguely at the teapot. Seconds later it was whistling. Angelina took a deep breath of the calming scent of her mother's tea before taking a small sip.

"So did you do what you were planning to do?" her mother asked, taking her own cup and sitting across the table from her daughter. "Or are you not allowed to tell me?"

"They didn't say that I wasn't allowed to tell you about what we were supposed to do," Angelina said, shifting uncomfortably. This would be the first time that she had to hide information from her mother. "We were supposed to go and save Oliver from the Death Eaters."

Her mother gasped softly and put her hand over her mouth. "Oliver…that nice boy that came by for a few days a couple of years ago when you went to the World Cup?" she asked. "He was such a nice boy. How did he get involved with…with…them?"

"That's one of the things that I don't think that I can tell you," Angelina whispered at the table, unable to meet her mother's warm chocolate eyes. Her mother nodded, sadly accepting the fact that there were now things in her daughter's life that even a mother was not privy to.

"It's all right," her mother said quietly, getting up from the table and hugging her daughter. "Why don't you go onto bed? You've had a difficult few weeks." Angelina nodded, feeling for the first time how tired she was.

Angelina collapsed into her bed. Before her eyes shut they caught sight of a small photograph sitting by her bed. Inwardly sighing, as she knew that she would not be able to sleep for a rather long time now, she sat up and picked the photograph up. A handsome black man waved at her energetically, still managing to keep the small girl on his shoulder balanced perfectly.

He hadn't deserved what he got. He wasn't even an Auror. He was a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, waiting to be advanced to an Auror. And then the renegade Death Eaters had come out into the crowded London street…they didn't even have a motive. She had been eating breakfast at the table when the owl had come flying in. a horrible, impersonal letter telling her that it had taken two Death Eaters to take her father's life away from him. He had died like a hero. Saving lives. The Ministry was proud of him. Order of Merlin, Second Class. The screaming, knocking over her cereal bowl. The anguished sobs, the low murmuring, McGonagall coming over and shooing everyone away. Someone had helped her up to the common room; she never did know who. She had spent the rest of the day sitting beside the fireplace, staring straight ahead with blank eyes, everyone else in the common room speaking in hushed voices and speaking cautiously around her.

Her father's death had caused quite a stir. It had been the first attack from the Death Eaters since Harry Potter had put an end to Voldemort. Everyone had been worried that he was starting to come back, that he was starting to form an allegiance again. They'd never found out who did it. That fact ate at Angelina's heart day in and day out, whenever she thought of her father. He had been a loving man, and had not deserved what fate and the Death Eaters had dealt to him.

Angelina clutched the picture tightly. She vowed to herself once again that she would find out whoever killed her father and deal them the justice that they so richly deserved.

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It felt like just a few short hours later when she heard her mother knocking at her bedroom door. "Angelina? I didn't want to wake you, but Alicia's here and she says that it's urgent." Angelina blinked her eyes that had been glued shut with sleep and slowly rolled out of bed. She did not bother to try to fix her horrible bed-head hair, as she thought that Alicia had seen her with worse hair.

She finally managed to make it across her room to open the door and Alicia strolled in. Angelina glared after her as Alicia walked past her. Alicia settled down on the bed that Angelina had vacated just a few short minutes ago. "Don't you sleep at all?" Angelina asked grudgingly, sitting beside her.

"I did sleep when I got home, but then I woke up and got to work," Alicia said. Angelina grunted.

"You were always the smart one," she acknowledged. "Still, it's just been a few hours since I got home. How much can you do in an hour or two?" Alicia looked at her incredulously and then laughed.

"Angelina darling, you've been asleep for almost a day now," she told her. Angelina let her mouth fall open.

"Are you kidding me? I can't believe I slept that long-oh forget it. I can't even pretend to be surprised anymore," she said in a resigned voice. "So while you were off being sleep-deprived, what did you find?"

Alicia looked at her, all joking aside and complete seriousness in her gaze. "Something that's pretty damn terrifying," she said frankly. "You remember that Sage said that she went to Beauxbaxtons? Well, I have a few connections inside the office, and I managed to get a copy of the student records, going back twenty five years. I figure that she can't be any older than that."

'A few connections?" Angelina asked, and then she remembered the boy from Beauxbaxtons that Alicia had been seeing during the months that he was at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. "Oh, never mind. But what's so startling about all of that?"

"It's the fact that there's nothing there that's disturbing," Alicia said grimly. "Angelina, there never was a Sage Cleaveland that went to Beauxbaxtons. I checked all of the records and she was never in there. She's been lying to us about where she went to school. If she's willing to lie about that, then what else is she willing to lie about?"

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Oliver came into the house, dead tired. For some reason it felt like the training session that day had been unusually hard. He sank into his chair and shut his eyes. "Don't fall asleep on the chair," he heard a soft voice chiding him. "You know that you're always stiff after you fall asleep on that chair."

Oliver opened his eyes reluctantly and smiled. "Right you are darling," he told her. "But you didn't have the bloodiest hard practice that I've ever had. Is that what I put the old team through? If it is, please let them forgive me."

"Ah, it was good for them," Sage reassured him, running her fingers through his short hair. Oliver closed his eyes in slow pleasure as a tingling went down his spine.

"I suppose so," he mumbled. "You know, I'd like to see the old team, see how they're doing," he mentioned carelessly. "I suppose that Harry's Captain now. I think he'd make a good one. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia already came by, and I saw enough of the twins over the holidays. I'd just like to get back together with them, just for old time's sake."

"Would you now?" Sage asked, never stopping in her massage of his scalp. "Perhaps that can be arranged."

The exhaustion that he felt and Sage's skilful fingers running through his scalp quickly took their toll on Oliver. Within minutes of coming into the house, he was asleep in the very chair that Sage had warned him not to fall asleep on. Sage waved her hand in front of Oliver's face several times to make sure he was asleep. For extra assurance she performed a Sleeping Charm that could only be removed by her. She walked out of the house, locking the door behind her.

No one noticed the slight woman moving through the shadows of the London streets. She kept her head down, looking at the small cracks on the sidewalk. In no time she was at the small, dingy building. She glanced over her shoulder before entering the building. Darkness engulfed her as the door closed. She rolled her eyes, though no one would be able to see her. The complete lack of light never failed to annoy her.

She took a few cautious steps forward into the darkness, expecting her foot to run into a piece of debris any second. She gasped when someone grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close to their body. "Got you," they whispered in her ear, making Sage shiver as a tingle went down her spine.

"I didn't know that you were here," she whispered back, just as softly. Her captor released her waist and squeezed her hand.

"He let me come here to be with you…and because he had plans as well," he whispered back to her. "Do you think that the Dark Lord gives up as easily as that?" Sage chuckled softly and followed the man into the biggest room, which was buried deep into the small building, so that no light would escape from the windows. A man was standing beside the fireplace, staring into the depths of the flames. Several armchairs sat around the fire. Sage could tell that figures were sitting in the chairs, but could not see their faces since they were shaded by the shadows that the fire cast on the room. When he heard the two people enter, the man turned around to face them.

"Master," Sage murmured, sinking into a bow. Lord Voldemort's bright red eyes sparked and his cruel mouth cracked into a sadistic smile. The firelight illuminated the room, revealing Sage's companion as none other than Marcus Flint. Marcus sank into a reverent bow, a small dancing around the corners of his mouth, as if he knew something that he did not.

"So Sage, we seem to have a problem," Voldemort said conversationally. Sage cringed, sure that she was about to receive punishment. Marcus's face showed a flicker of concern, but he made no move to protect her. He was not as stupid as to come between Lord Voldemort and his victim. "As of right now, our favorite Keeper was supposed to be dead. And right now, isn't he at home in your lovely flat?"

"Yes Master," Sage whimpered miserably. "I am sorry that I have failed you, I will try much harder…" She began saying disjointed statements, trying to postpone or possibly completely put off her punishment.

"I do not blame you," he told her, strangely benevolent. Sage looked up in hope. "You did your job well. You played your part and let him become close to you. Then you started administering the potions, and feeding him the false tips. It is not your fault that my other Death Eaters did not perform as satisfactorily." He sent a side-long glare at Marcus and he shifted uncomfortably.

"And even his brief sojourn with us was not completely useless," Voldemort continued. Sage was wondering what had gotten him into such a good mood. He was most definitely not usually smiling when one of his plans failed. "He told us about a spy that was living in our midst, and he let us know the general location of one of Dumbledore's refuges. And we're not done with him yet." He turned to Sage, his gaze piercing. "You are administering the potions daily?" he asked her sharply.

Sage nodded briefly. "Yes Master. He has no idea what's happening to him. In fact, he has no idea that anything at all is happening to him." She waited to hear what the plans were for Oliver, but unwilling to ask what Voldemort had planned, just in case he got angry at her.

"Good," he nodded his approval. "We still have plans for him. I've decided that it is no good trying to get information out of torturing him. It doesn't seem to work that well. We'll have to delve deeper into the finesse of his mind." He jerked his head and a figure which had been sitting in one of the armchairs rose.

"Since most of my Death Eaters are unskilled in the matters of delicacy, I am assigning someone who is," Voldemort announced. "I know that you dislike each other, but I hope that you will look over your dislike of each other, or else suffer my…displeasure." Sage glared at Bellatrix Lestrange, and she returned the expression, lifting her lip in a sneer of hatred. But in the presence of their Lord, they dared not do anything more than that.

"Sage, I know that you'll make me proud," Voldemort said, staring deep into her eyes with his blood-red, snakelike eyes. Staring back at him, Sage felt a heady rush of pleasure that only this could make her feel. Not even Marcus could make her feel this sensation, the feeling that came only with being near extraordinary power and evil and knowing that she was needed by it, knowing that she was essential. Her lips quirked into a cold smile, the gesture not reaching her eyes, which remained as cold as ice.

When she was finally able to tear her eyes away from Voldemort's she felt Marcus's arm around her shoulder. She exited the room, feeling lightheaded, and her mind a million miles away. She and Marcus walked around the darkness of London, completely in sync with each other's rhythms. She knew what she was going to do. And it would be easy, oh so easy.

When Sage finally returned home it was child's play for her to convince Oliver into thinking that he had merely fallen asleep on the chair. She quickly made a dish and put it onto the counter of the kitchen. She then went to wake Oliver.

"Sleepy head," she said softly, inwardly hating herself for acting this childish. "Wake up now," she cajoled. Oliver grunted and then slowly opened his brown eyes. "What did I tell you?" she chided gently.

"Did I fall asleep on the chair?" he asked her, his Scottish brogue thick in sleep. She pursed her lips and nodded slowly, folding her arms in mock anger.

"I made something for you, but you probably won't want to eat it," she remarked. Oliver shrugged.

"I don't feel much like eating. Sorry love," he apologized to her. Sage returned his shrug. "I'm just bloody tired," he yawned. "I think I'm going to go to bed so I can be ready for practice tomorrow. How are you never tired from your practices? It's just been lately, I've hardly been able to keep myself awake during the day or during any time really."

"Perhaps it's your late-night activities that are making you tired," Sage purred suggestively, running her finger down his muscular chest. Oliver cracked a smile and slid his hand to the back of his neck.

"Do you want to make me tired for practice tomorrow?" he asked her, arching his eyebrow at her. Sage smiled, inwardly cursing everyone in the world for making her do this. Being fairly anonymous in the wizarding world was not always a good thing, as it usually led to her having to play parts like this. It was only at these times when she actually had resentment against her Lord.

Later that night, when Oliver was sleeping soundly once more, a mirror on Sage's nightstand began to glow with an unearthly light. Sage picked this up out of the corner of her eye and took the mirror into her hands. When she looked into the depths of the mirror Bellatrix Lestrange's heavily hooded eyes stared imperiously back at her. "Had another grueling night in the sack, eh?" she mocked her younger Death Eater.

Sage stared back in hatred. "What do you want?" she spat out, trying to be quiet so she wouldn't wake Oliver. Being discovered talking to a known and hated Death Eater might raise uncomfortable questions.

Bellatrix pretended to casually inspect her nails, knowing all the while that Sage was getting more and more annoyed at her. She finally spoke in drawling sneer that was almost exactly like the one that Lucius Malfoy spoke in. "Incredibly complicated though your job must be, the Dark Lord does have other plans for you. After all, it's no good having a spy planted in his house if you're not going to find out anything. Now what do you know that would galvanize him into action?"

Sage searched her memory and quickly came up with a name. "Alicia Spinnet," she said quickly. "She's one of his friends from back in school. She's graduated now, currently living with her parents I think." Bellatrix smiled sadistically.

"I think that we could find a way to…persuade her to come with us," she said slowly, before disappearing away from the mirror. Sage put the mirror, now merely showing her reflection, back onto the bedside table before turning her gaze to the sleeping Keeper. There was not a trace of sympathy in her light blue eyes as they scanned over his sleeping form. She finally lowered herself back onto the soft mattress beside Oliver. He rolled over in his sleep and threw his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Though every fiber in her being hated it, Sage let herself be pulled closer to him. She finally fell asleep.

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Bellatrix put down the mirror and turned to her companion, Marcus Flint. He was practically quivering with hatred at having to let his woman sleep with his school rival. "I swear I'm going to kill that bastard," he swore to himself, clenching his fist tightly at his side. Bellatrix clicked her tongue at him.

"Now dear," she said soothingly, running her hand up his arm. "All in good time. Who knows? If you do an excellent job with this mission perhaps you will indeed be the one to kill our darling Mr. Wood." Her playful smile vanished and was replaced by a face of stone. The only hint of emotion was in her eyes, which had a cruel, sadistic gleam in them. "Now, this girl…this Alicia Spinnet…do you know her?"

Marcus nodded shortly. "She played on the team. They were pretty close friends. Yeah, I think if we got to her, then he'd come for her."

Bellatrix nodded decisively. "Do it."

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Alicia turned over on her comfortable bed. She had politely declined Angelina's mother's offer to stay the night and had instead gone back to her house. It had taken her a longer time to fall asleep tonight than it usually did. Her mind was going insane with all of the pondering it was doing about Sage and what she really wanted to do with Oliver. She wrestled with telling Oliver what they had found out and it ultimately told her "Not tonight. You can tell him another day." She finally fell asleep with this weighing on her mind.

Her window was quietly jinxed open. Several black figures stole into her room, as silent as the grave. Alicia shifted in her bed once more, trying to burrow deeper into the covers. Some small noise caught her attention, or some internal warning went off in her head and she fought her way back from the depths of slumber.

Her eyes blinked hazily as she tried to discover what woke her up. When one of the shadows detached itself from the corner of her room Alicia's heart froze. She opened her eyes wider and inflated her lungs, preparing to deliver an earth shattering scream, but the person was too fast. With one flick of the wand, a jet of silent red light shot out and hit her squarely in the chest. Alicia fell back to the bed soundlessly and the Death Eaters converged upon her. They bore her body up and then disappeared from her room, hardly leaving a trace of their presence.

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Alicia woke up, her mind immediately snapping to what happened just before she lost consciousness. She gasped loudly, trying to see something, anything in the darkness. Her heart pounded madly in her chest and she felt lightheaded with terror. _Is this what Oliver felt? _She wondered to herself, her fingers searching the rough surface of the room where they were keeping her. She thought that the floor was made of some sort of stone, but she could not be completely sure.

She staggered to her feet, her hands searching over her body for any place that she might have hidden her wand. Deep in the back of her mind she knew that she had been sleeping when she had been abducted, and therefore she did not have her wand. Sleeping with her wand had never seemed to be a very practical idea. Her eyes darted around wildly as she realized the enormity of her situation. She had been kidnapped and taken to this place and she had no wand to defend herself. She hadn't even won a fist fight since she was eight, and that was against a girl that lived up the street from her.

She walked around the room, cursing softly when she ran into a wall. No sign of light entered the room, not even from a crack in the door. There were no windows in the room. In frustration, Alicia kicked the wall. It did nothing save make her toe hurt. So now she was kidnapped without a wand and with a possibly broken toe. Things could not possibly get any worse.

She knew that it was a bad idea to think something like that. As soon as that thought crossed her mind the door creaked open and a light blazed forth. Alicia shut her eyes in pain at the sudden light that assaulted her pupils. She finally opened her eyes and squinted ahead. What she saw in front of her made her stomach drop and hit her ankles. "You," she spat at Marcus Flint's face. He gave her a Snape-worthy sneer and nodded his head slowly.

"Me," he clarified, leaning up against the wall. Alicia swore to herself that she was not going to let this bastard see any sign of her fear. She swore that he was not going to get the satisfaction of knowing that he was scaring the crap out of her by his careful nonchalance. Unfortunately, her panic was plain for anyone with eyes to see. Marcus basked in the revelation of her fear, absorbing it into the dark blackness of his soul.

"Well, I can't say that I'm surprised at seeing you as a Death Eater," Alicia spat. It was the first statement that came to her mind and she was pleased to see that her guess had paid off when Marcus smirked at her. So he had indeed joined the legions of Lord Voldemort's followers. "I'm just surprised that he hasn't killed you yet for something stupid that you did. You were always rather incompetent." The smirk on Marcus's face dimmed as he glared at her. Alicia's heart was racing, yet a certain recklessness had seized her. This was the only way that she could fight back. She panted, amazed at her own daring.

Marcus's face contorted for a moment as he struggled to come up with a decent comeback. He finally settled on the first one that he could think of. "Shut up Spinnet!" he spat at her. "You think you're so good with your Mudblood-loving leader. The Dark Lord's already risen, right under his nose. You have no idea what's in store for you."

Alicia quirked an eyebrow. She had no idea where this sarcastic, wise-cracking version of her normal quiet self had come from, but it was very comforting to have while it lasted. "Very scathing," she coldly remarked. "You almost had me shaking in my boots there. If I hadn't already heard Draco Malfoy screaming the same thing about fifty times already last year at Potter when he thought that no one else could hear him, I might actually be terrified."

Marcus's eyes narrowed and he shot the fatal barb that hit Alicia straight in the heart. "If the entire world's demise doesn't bother you, then what about your Captain's?" he asked her. Alicia's eyes widened in horror.

"So this is why you kidnapped me?" he asked her, her knees slowly weakening. She didn't think that they could hold her up for much longer. "You wanted to get back to Oliver?"

Marcus smiled viciously at her again. "Oh yeah," he drawled, carrying every syllable of the short sentence out. "The Dark Lord doesn't like it when his things go missing and he still has business that he needs to conduct. No matter how much you've all tried to protect him, we can still get to him. And the easiest way is through you."

"He won't believe it," Alicia said desperately, trying to convince Flint that it was true. "Oliver's not that stupid. He'll see straight through this."

Flint grinned at her, his abnormally large front teeth glistening in the pale light illuminating from his wand. "That's where I think you're wrong Spinnet," he told her softly. "See, Gryffindors have a strange affinity for rescuing first, and asking questions later. It's part of what makes them so easy to kill." He turned around, extinguishing the light from his wand. "Nighty-night," he bade her before shutting the door again. The sound of its closing echoed around the room, reinforcing the idea that there was no escape in Alicia's mind.

Her knees finally gave out and she fell on the ground, silent tears pouring out of her eyes. She was infinitely grateful that Flint had left when he did and had spared her from the ridicule of breaking down in his presence. Her anguish finally came out in audible form, her entire body shaking with the force of her sobs. She lightly pounded the floor with her clenched fist, shaking her head. "Oliver, please," she begged, even though she knew that there was no way that he could ever hear her. "Please Oliver, don't come for me."

But in her heart she knew that he already was.

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"What?" Fred bellowed, loud enough to wake up the entirety of Diagon Alley. Angelina half-heartedly tried to pacify him, though she also wanted to scream until her lungs were ripped into shreds. Hadn't they been through enough already with Oliver? Now they had to go through the same with Alicia? Two of her best friends had been kidnapped, and Angelina would have to be kidding herself if she thought that these were not related. They were two of the most gentle, loving people that she would ever meet—all right, Oliver was not very loving towards certain Slytherins, nor was he very gentle towards anyone, but they were still two of the best people that she knew and they had both been abducted.

Lee emerged from the back room with George, both looking slightly puzzled. "What's going on?" he asked, glancing from Fred to Angelina and back again. A slow grin spread across his face. "Don't tell me that she's breaking up with you!" he told Fred. Fred turned and viciously attacked Lee.

"Alicia's missing you idiot!" he shouted. Lee stepped back, an expression of hurt and fright on his face. "She's missing and we have no idea where she is!"

"We should get Katie and tell her too," Angelina said dully, sinking into a chair. "I just thought…after Oliver maybe we were all safe…"

"That's it," George said quietly, his face lighting up with realization. "It's all connected to Oliver isn't it?" Angelina's mouth hung open as she upbraided herself for never thinking of this. "Two Gryffindor Quidditch players get, for lack of a better word, kidnapped, all within the space of two months, and you're saying that they are in no way connected?"

"I guess we'd better tell Oliver then, shouldn't we?" Fred asked, his face darkening. "I thought we'd see Oliver for a little party at London, not telling him that one of his best mates has been kidnapped."

"And I'll go onto tell Dumbledore that Alicia's been taken," Angelina said. "Do you have any Floo Powder in the shop?" she asked Fred.

"Sure, it's right beside the fireplace in the back," he said, gesturing to a door that was almost hidden behind the paraphernalia of the shop. "Come on George, I guess we'll go tell Oliver." They stepped outside of the shop and promptly Disapparated.

Lee gazed after them, a slightly resentful look in his eyes. "They're always doing that," he commented lightly when he felt Angelina's eyes on him. He managed to force out a smile, though it came out horribly lopsided and made him look slightly demented. "So, I'll take you to the back room. And then I should probably get back out front. We still have a shop to run, you know!" He laughed, and the shrillness of it made Angelina wince.

"Lee," she began. He turned around from where he was leading her, the demented smile still on his face. "You're horrible at pretending to be cheerful." The smile was instantly wiped off of his face and a stony resentment replaced it.

"I just…I was in Gryffindor too damn it all," he exploded, punching his thigh with his fist. "And they don't even bother to ask me if I want to come. Hell, the last time I practically begged them…I know that I'm being stupid and they're just trying to protect me, but I knew Alicia and Oliver. They were my friends too. I just don't want to be here, minding the damn shop. We started the shop as friends. When they walk off like that…it's like they don't trust me to help them."

Angelina nodded slowly, an idea beginning to blossom in her head. "Lee, do you want to come with me to Hogwarts? I mean, you might as well." Lee nodded, and did not say anything as he waved his wand. The sign at the front of the shop flipped around to show "Closed". "Let's go then," Angelina said, letting some of her internal turmoil shine forth as she thought about why she was going to return to her alma mater.

Angelina stepped up beside the fireplace, grabbed some Floo powder and threw it into the fire that suddenly blazed up. "Hogwarts!" she cried, and stepped into the warm flames. Lee quickly followed her and Angelina shut her eyes tightly against the sparks that flew around her. She felt herself slowing and turning around. With a huge whoosh she fell out of the fireplace, straight on the feet of one Mr. Severus Snape.

Angelina looked up into the face of her former Potions professor. She had heard about what had happened to him over the course of their stay with the Order. He looked no different from when he had been torturing her in her Potions class, and his sneer in particular stayed put upon his sallow face as he peered down at her.

"Miss Johnston," he drawled slowly, folding his arms and glaring down at her. "And Mr. Jordan," he continued, as Lee fell out of the fireplace. "To what do I owe this…pleasure?" he asked them with an unpleasant smirk. Angelina and Lee struggled to their feet, slightly taken aback from Snape's presence.

Angelina felt the aura of stupidity that had always surrounded her in Snape's classes floating in the air to finally, inevitably settle down around her shoulders. "We…we were ah, here to see Dumbledore," she finally managed to stammer out, her mind going completely blank for a moment.

"Is there a reason that you needed to see the Headmaster?" he asked them in his low, dangerous voice. "I assure you, your sleepover invitations can be delivered by owl, though the sentiment behind hand-delivering them is admirable."

Angelina flushed, though it was hardly noticeable against her dark skin. "We're not…it's not…we're here about Alicia!" she finally got out. Snape raised an eyebrow. This enraged Angelina and made her more determined than ever to save her friend. This dawdling was doing nothing to save her best friend.

Lee cut in before Angelina could say something that one day she would undoubtedly regret. "Alicia Spinnet has been kidnapped, and we have an idea that it could be tied up with the Oliver business," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially on the last two words. Snape's face remained impassive, but he walked towards the door.

"I'll show you to the Headmaster's office," he told them, sweeping away, his long black robes billowing out in the sudden wind caused by his movement. Angelina and Lee followed them, Angelina looking curiously around at the hallways. Lee noticed this and whispered to her, "It can't seem that unfamiliar. It hasn't been that long has it?"

Angelina shook her head. "No, it's nothing like that," she said, looking around, pursing her lips and shrugging. "It's just…it seems smaller, you know?"

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Fred raised his fist to knock upon Oliver's front door. They had remembered the address from a piece of paper that Oliver had hurriedly given him when he left Grimmauld Place. According to what Angelina, Katie, and Alicia had told them, that was really the last time that any of them had seen the real Oliver. It was strange to think that the brooding, grief-stricken Oliver was the one that they would prefer to have, but very few things in their lives were normal nowadays.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say?" George asked him tensely, all the joking in his eyes gone for once. "I don't think it'd be the best thing to say, 'Oh, hi Oliver! We were just in the neighborhood, so we thought we'd stop by and say that one of your best friends has been kidnapped, and it's probably something to do with you.'" Fred nodded shortly.

"I've got something worked out, yeah," he said. Before he could change his mind and walk away completely, he struck the door with his fist several times.

"Good, because I'm complete rubbish with stuff like this," George said with his customary lightness, though Fred could sense that this time it was forced. "If I had to tell him I'd completely muck it up." Oliver answered the front door before he could say anything else.

"What do you two sods want?" he asked. His brown eyes flicked over them, trying to divine through their appearance the purpose for their visit. George strained, but he could not see a trace of the evil girlfriend that the girls had met.

Whatever Fred was going to say to Oliver to break the news gently to him flew out of his head as he looked at his former Captain. "Oliver, it's about Alicia," he said, his voice breaking. "She's been taken."

Oliver's mouth fell open, his eyes wide and astonished. It was now that the girlfriend decided to creep up behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Fred stared at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was something in the careful nonchalance that she moved, something in the way that her face was completely blank without the slightest hint of concern or curiosity at what these two strange men were doing on her doorstep.

"What do these two gentlemen want?" she purred in Oliver's chest, her fingers tickling over his sculpted chest. Oliver absently pushed her off, his face disturbed.

"You remember Alicia, don't you?" he asked her, his breathing coming out in short little pants. He ran his hand over his forehead and walked back to his chair. Collapsing down upon it, he leant over, almost like he was going to be sick. Fred and George followed him into the house, while the girlfriend knelt down before him, running her fingers through his hair.

"Oh no Oliver, I'm so sorry," she whispered, bringing his head up, kissing his forehead. His body shook with the force of his sobs, although no tears ran down his cheeks. "Let me make you some tea."

Something clicked in Fred's brain. When Angelina and the girls had been over here last, the girlfriend had given them a cup of tea, and their brains had become blank, and a feeling of inexplicable well-being had stolen over them. The tea was key.

George had realized this as well. He laid his hand down on Oliver's shoulder. Oliver looked at him, his eyes wide and lost for a second before the self-control that Oliver always had stole back over his face. "Actually, I don't think it's that good of an idea for you to stay for that tea," he said, keeping his voice and tone light. "Let's take you out somewhere where you can think about this a little bit, eh?" he said, keeping his tone purposefully light, though still concerned.

"It was nice meeting you," Fred said, putting his arm around Oliver and walking on the right side of the man, as George did the same thing on the left side. He turned around to offer the evil girlfriend a smile, and the look on her face stopped him in his tracks. It was a look of pure, evil hatred. She pulled the corner of her lip up in a snarl as she stared at him. It was obvious that she didn't care what he thought about her.

As he looked into her eyes, a mocking light mingled with her hatred. Her snarl became more of a sneer and she slowly drew her finger across her throat. The implication as to Alicia's fate was painfully clear for Fred. He stared at her, lost for a reply. He turned around to see where he was going when his shoulder collided painfully with the door lintel. He shook his head and turned around for another look at the girlfriend. The look of hatred was wiped entirely off of her face like it had never been there.

George kicked the door shut with his foot, letting out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin we got you out of this one," he said gratefully, gradually letting go. Oliver tottered slightly, but stayed on his feet. Once he was steady, Oliver turned around to look at Fred curiously.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, a hint of hostility in his voice. The twins shared a look, and Fred pulled the older man down onto the nearest bench on the sidewalk.

"Oliver, there's something that we need to tell you about Sage," Fred said gently, in a most unlike-Fred voice.

"Oh Agrippa, she's not pregnant is she?" he moaned. Fred snorted for a moment with the inappropriate humor and then he quickly sobered, his face becoming impassive.

"No, she's evil," he quickly said. Oliver's mouth hung open in startled amazement. Fred quickly told him everything that he, George, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia had managed to figure out. "She's been giving you some sort of tea thing that makes you all nice and complacent. They can't find a record of her at any kind of Wizarding School, which means that she's lied about where she's come from. There has to be a reason that she's done that. And I think that she might have been feeding you false information as well as potions." Fred stopped to see what Oliver would do.

The Keeper reacted quicker than the stocky twin was expecting. With force so great that it knocked Fred off of the bench, his fist slammed into Fred's ear, making an odd ringing noise. Fred clutched his ear, looking up at Oliver. He had never seen him this angry before. His lightly freckled face was chalk white with rage. His eyes were full of cold fury, and his voice shook very slightly as he pointed a trembling finger at Fred.

"You take that back," he ordered. Fred looked up at Oliver, feeling helpless to stop his friend. George looked between the two, unsure of what to say or do. "You take that back, you fucking bastard. She's not…how dare you…oh God…" he sank down onto the bench again, shaking once more. He covered his mouth with his hands, shaking his head and muttering into his palms. "I've been an idiot, haven't I?" he asked them both.

Fred got back onto his feet, wincing with pain and gingerly touching his left ear. "It's all right mate," he said cautiously, putting his hand on Oliver's back. "We just need to get you to the Order and let them sort all of this out, all right?" he asked, a slight smile on his face.

Oliver nodded, the haunted look back in his eyes. That look had been in his eyes when he found out about his parents, and had disappeared when he went back to live with Sage. Now it was present once more, and the twins felt almost guilty for being glad that it was there. As long as Oliver was tortured it was the true Oliver, and not the one that Sage wanted. "Let's go rescue Alicia, shall we?" Oliver asked in a tight voice, bringing them back to the present.

"Good plan," George said lightly, clapping him on the back. The three friends moved forward once more.

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Dumbledore put his fingers together in a steeple as Angelina and Lee explained their theory of what happened to Alicia. He nodded slowly as they concluded. "I think that would be a reasonable conclusion," he said softly. "I think it would be good to have this all explained to Mr. Wood. This concerns him in particular."

"Fred and George were going to get him," Lee quickly explained. "I don't know where they were taking him after that."

"Undoubtedly they will be taking him to the Order's headquarters," Dumbledore explained. Lee sent a confused look towards Angelina, who sent another look back at him that plainly said _"I'll tell you later."_ "We should send him a message to come here." He sent a glance at the phoenix that was sitting on its perch next to his desk. "Fawkes, he will need something." The phoenix let out a low quavering note which lingered on the air, and then he disappeared in a burst of flame.

"It will not take him very long to get here," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair. He gestured at the chairs and Angelina and Lee sat down. There was an awkward silence and then Angelina brought up a topic that was bothering her.

"Sir, we were wondering if we could go and get Katie Bell," Angelina said hesitantly. "She was one of Oliver's friends and she helped us rescue him this summer. I think that she would like to know what's happening."

"I have not forgotten any of this summer's events," Dumbledore reminded her gently. "You can go and get her. I believe that she is in her Transfiguration Class at this moment. Try not to make a disruption. Professor McGonagall might still try to give you detention."

Angelina smiled and filed out of the office, along with Lee. She walked down the familiar hallways until she found McGonagall's room. She waited with some trepidation until Lee pushed past her. He knocked on the door with none of the hesitance that Angelina had. She looked wide-eyed at him. McGonagall called out severely, "Come in."

"Don't worry," he said lightly to her, shrugging as he opened the door. "Minerva loves me. When I had to do all those commentaries on Quidditch she got to like me a little bit."

Professor McGonagall had seen quite a few things in her day. But seeing Lee Jordan come strolling back into her classroom like he owned it was not one of the things that she had expected to see. It was good that he did not have the Weasley twins with him; otherwise she might have gone and barricaded herself in her study.

"Mr. Jordan," she said formally, trying to hide her shock. "What a nice surprise. What are you here for?" Lee walked up to her and whispered something to her. She nodded, her face suddenly grave. "Miss Bell," she called out to the classroom. Katie looked up, her face suddenly fearful. "Mr. Jordan and Miss Johnston need to borrow you for a moment."

Katie followed Lee and Angelina outside. Once outside the room she turned on them, her eyes wide with fear. "What happened?" she burst out, grabbing Angelina's arm. "Is it Oliver? Is everything all right?"

"You know, one day we'll go and do something and it will have absolutely nothing to do with either Quidditch or Oliver," Angelina vowed to herself. She regained her seriousness and looked Katie in the eyes. "It has to do with Alicia," Angelina admitted. "When her mum went into her room this morning Alicia wasn't there. And it's not like Alicia to simply wander off. She would have had a reason, and since she didn't leave a note, it's probably a good sign that she was kidnapped. Dumbledore thinks so too," Angelina said, as if this opinion confirmed everything that she had ever thought.

"But why kidnap Alicia?" Katie wondered, her quick mind shooting through possibilities. "Why her…unless…" She looked up, realization dawning in her eyes. "They wanted to get to Oliver didn't they?" Angelina nodded.

"That's what we think," Lee supplied. "And what better way to get to Oliver than by kidnapping one of his best friends?"

"So what do we do?" Katie asked. Angelina shrugged as they began to walk back to Dumbledore's office.

"Fred and George went to go get Oliver, and they're bringing him here to Hogwarts. I guess we'll figure out what to do after that."

"He's not going to go after her is he?" Katie asked anxiously. "Forgive me for saying so, but this has "Trap" written all over it. Oliver would have to be stupid not to see that."

"Yeah, no doubt that he sees it, just like everyone else, but I don't think that it matters to him. He's still the Captain and he still has a responsibility to all of his players," Angelina summarized. "If he lets Alicia stay in with the Death Eaters I don't think that he'll ever be able to forgive himself. He's a Gryffindor, remember? That means that his bravery tends to rule out everything else, including common sense."

Katie bit her lip in uneasiness. "Hopefully we'll be able to talk some common sense into him," Lee said, voicing all of their opinions. They came in front of the gargoyle that had marked the entrance into Dumbledore's office. "Ice Mice," Lee said. The gargoyle moved and the three stepped on the rotating spiral staircase.

Angelina knocked on the door. "Come in," Dumbledore's voice called. She opened the door to see Oliver sitting down with Fred and George leaning against the wall. The subjects of the portraits watched interestedly to see what was going to happen.

Oliver nodded as the three entered the room. Dumbledore smiled at them all, and then waved his wand, conjuring extra chairs for them all. They sank into the chairs, waiting to hear what he would tell them to do.

"I assure that the Masters Weasley have told you what has happened?" he addressed Oliver kindly. The Scottish man nodded. All who saw him could see that he was restless, unwilling to sit around while he perceived one of his friends to be in trouble. "What do you think that we should do?"

Oliver looked aghast at Dumbledore. Dumbledore was asking him what he thought that they should do? What was Dumbledore for, if not to tell them what to do? "Well, I think we should go and get her out of there before anything happens to her," he said finally. Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Yes, I thought that you would say that," he murmured. "Has it occurred to you that your rushing to her rescue is precisely what the Death Eaters are expecting that you will do?" Oliver's face now showed a slight anger towards the old man.

"I don't care if that's what they're expecting I'm going to do, because I'm going to do it," he told Dumbledore, a hint of steel in his voice. "I am not going to leave one of my best friends in the grasp of Voldemort. Forgive if I'm wrong, but that's the sort of thing that the Death Eaters do, not the Order."

Dumbledore nodded again. Oliver was finding himself becoming annoyed with this habit. "No, indeed, we do not leave those that we love in the grasp of the enemy. That is one of our strongest failings, and the one that the Enemy exploits as much as he can to his advantage. Those who love have greater strength than those who do not, but because of their love they are made vulnerable for those who know how to manipulate their affections."

There was definite anger in Oliver's gaze, and a steely determination in the way that he held his jaw. "I don't care if they're ready for me," he said, his voice quivering with emotions that he was holding back. "Do you know that I've basically been a prisoner in my own for who knows how long? There's been…someone living in my house, trying to turn me against you, and the Order, and I didn't know. Now they want to take one of my best friends, and _I don't care_ if they know that I'm coming. I have to try at least."

This time Dumbledore did not nod, but merely looked at the determination in Oliver's eyes. The Scot grew at least ten feet in front of Dumbledore's eyes, and now, more than ever, he was a man. "Be careful," Dumbledore murmured, and Oliver knew that he had permission to go. Oliver got up, nodded shortly, and left the office. Angelina, Katie, Lee, Fred and George were a bit more polite in making their exit.

"Professor…can I go with them?" Katie asked hesitantly. Dumbledore smiled softly at her.

"Yes, I think that would be for the best," he said softly. "After what happened this summer we can hardly count you as a child."

"What about Harry?" Angelina asked curiously. "Do you want him coming along as well?" Dumbledore's face suddenly grew grave and he shook his head.

"No, I'm afraid that this adventure will have to be Mr. Wood's alone," he said, rearranging a piece of parchment on his desk. "Mr. Potter will have things that he needs to do this year. Things which, while they might not be more important than your mission, will nonetheless require all of his time and effort. No, I'm afraid Harry will not be accompanying you this time."

"All right," Angelina nodded. "Well…good-bye sir." Dumbledore raised his hand in a wave as Angelina shut the door to his office.

They caught up to Oliver as he was walking steadily through the entrance hall. "Oliver, wait!" Katie called, jogging after him. He turned around, his hand on one of the doorknobs of the main doors. "Where are you going?" she asked, pushing back some of her hair.

"I'm going to where I know I'm going to get at least some information," he said shortly, pushing open the door and exiting onto the grounds. He turned around to see them all paused on the threshold of Hogwarts. "Are you coming?" he asked them gruffly. With no spoken word, they all followed their Captain down and out of the Hogwarts grounds.

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They had no idea of where Oliver was taking them when they Disapparated. There were several buildings and a stadium around them. He strode purposefully through several doors, until he was standing on a Quidditch pitch. Several figures were flying around. One stopped in mid-air before soaring down to meet them. Angelina grimaced as she recognized Flint's trademark teeth.

"Wood," Flint sneered at him. Oliver kept on walking towards him, not saying anything. It occurred to him that the last time he had seen this man it had been when he was throwing him out into the freezing snow to die. This thought put Oliver into an even worse mood. He knew that if he pulled back Flint's sleeve he would see the Dark Mark, glaring and vivid on his forearm. He had tortured Oliver, and tried to kill him, and he was greeting him like there was nothing wrong? Oliver's blood was boiling even more than it had been.

Flint began to be worried by Oliver's stony face. By the time that he realized that Oliver was on a death mission, the Keeper was on him. Wood grabbed Flint's shoulder with a grip that Flint could never hope to escape and propelled him to the nearest wall. Luckily for him, it was fairly shadowed and underneath the bleachers, so there was little chance that they would be discovered by an innocent bystander.

Wood slammed Flint into the wall with so much force that Angelina was surprised that Flint didn't just fly through. "What do you know?" Wood screamed, his elbow against Flint's throat, and his face less than an inch away from Flint's. "What do you know?"


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Touching Evil

A/N: Back again. We're winding down rather quickly now. It's the final chapters, and everything's basically coming to a head: Oliver, Angelina, Lee's and Alicia's back-stories just to name several. There's probably going to be this chapter, one more, and then perhaps a short epilogue. I don't know.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned it. That would be nice.

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"What do you know?" Oliver repeated in a deadly voice, shoving Marcus up against the wall, his face less than an inch away from his. Fred, Angelina, Katie, George and Lee watched him, silent in their surprise. They had never seen Oliver this furious, this focused, not even for Quidditch. Marcus sneered at him.

"What makes you think that I would know that?" he asked him quietly. Oliver snarled, and pulled up Flint's left arm. Oliver pulled off Flint's glove and wrist-bands to reveal the Dark Mark, vividly imprinted upon the pale skin of his forearm. Flint chucked softly. "Well, now you know I suppose," he said, staring at Oliver as if he was daring him to do something.

"Tell me where you have Alicia, or else I swear to God I'll…" Oliver began, but Flint interrupted you.

"You'll what?" Flint mocked him, arching his eyebrow. "You'll kill me? You don't have the balls Wood," he hissed maliciously at him. Oliver brought his knee up sharply into Flint's groin. Flint's eyes became glazed and he gasped in pain as he attempted to double over in pain. Oliver grabbed his shoulder and pushed him against the wall, his wand at Flint's throat.

"No, I won't kill you," Oliver hissed. "I think that I'll pay you back with some of what you gave me up in Russia. I never did thank you for that. There are other ways to destroy a man rather than by killing him," Oliver said, suddenly remembering something that Dumbledore had said at one of the Order meetings. "You would know, wouldn't you?" he added in as an afterthought. "You did it to me."

Marcus realized for the first time in his life that talking would not be a good idea. He remained silent, though his face was turning a delicate shade of baby blue. As he thought more about what the Death Eaters and Voldemort had done to him, Oliver pushed harder against Flint's windpipe. His wand was forgotten and he let it drop to the floor. All that he wanted to do was to inflict the same kind of pain on Flint that Flint and his cronies had inflicted upon him. Flint soon began to choke. His hands scrabbled at Oliver's forearms futilely, seeking a way in which he could be released.

"Oliver!" Katie finally cried, moving forward. She pulled Oliver's hands away from Flint's throat with some difficulty. "Oliver?" Katie asked again. His brown eyes slowly returned to normal as he looked at her. Flint rasped on the ground and Oliver moved his leg like he was going to kick him. "No!" Katie said, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder "I'm not saying that he doesn't deserve it, because he does…but you can't give him what he deserves. Let someone else do it. Not you."

Oliver's eyes were still smoldering with hatred, but he managed to bury it deep within him enough to look at Flint lying on the ground. "You're going to take us to where she is," he finally managed to choke out. With a tight grip born of all of his years of Quidditch experience, Oliver brought Marcus up to his feet. At the poke of a wand, Marcus moved forward, yelling some excuse to teammates who asked where he was going.

Oliver set off after Marcus, feeling as if he was getting some control over his life at last.

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When Flint stopped in front of a rundown building, Oliver thought that he had to be trying to annoy him in some way. There was no possibly way that Voldemort would pick something this rundown to be his headquarters. "What are you trying to pull?" Oliver hissed. Marcus shook his head violently.

"No, this is where he lives," he said, beginning to chuckle slightly. "This is where he makes his plans. I swear that this is it." His shoulders shook for a moment with silent laughter, and then it became audible.

"What's so funny?" George asked irritably. Marcus looked at them all standing together. Under his maniacal gaze, they drew closer together for protection. Angelina found herself shoved up against Fred. He put his arm around her, making her feel slightly more protected against this madman.

"You're going to go in there, and you're going to die," he told them, grinning madly at them. Oliver wondered whether Flint had lost whatever tentative grip that he had on reality. "And I'm going to be watching and I'll laugh."

"Stupefty!" Lee cried, unable to stop himself, acting purely out of fear. He stared down at Flint's unconscious body, his chest heaving.

"Well, now at least if we die then Flint won't be looking at us," George cracked. Katie snickered despite the inappropriate humor of the situation. Oliver took a step forward and grasped the door handle. His confident nature left him in that moment and his shoulders bent down.

"What am I doing?" he whispered. He turned around to them. "You can't follow me," he told them frankly. He saw them getting ready to protest, and shook his head. "This is between me and the Dark Lord. We saw with Cedric of how he treats things that aren't in his plans and that are getting in his way. I don't want that to happen to you and it will if you go in there. So please, just let me handle this on my own."

"Oliver no!" Katie cried. "You'll die! You need some help, you can't do this alone!"

"I won't be alone," he told them, smiling with his mouth, but his eyes somewhere else, staring somewhere beyond their puny human sight. "I'll have you with me in there, you know?" he asked them. Without waiting for an answer from them, he put his handle on the doorknob and decisively turned the handle and walked in.

Everyone lunged towards the door, but it shut firmly in their faces. When George tried to seize the doorknob and pull it open, the force of the charm on the door threw him across the sidewalk. He got up and walked towards the rest of the frightened group. "I don't think there's anything that we can do," he told them, biting his lip in worry. "He's in there, and we can't get him out of there."

"No, I don't believe that," Katie said, rushing up to the door. She hadn't even touched the door before the charm slammed her back. Lee and Fred just managed to catch her before she fell into the dirt. She coughed, shaking her head from the shock of the charm that had been laid on the door that protected the lair of the Death Eaters. "They wanted Oliver to go in there," she realized slowly. "That's why only he could get in. They wanted him back. And we can't even warn him of their purpose." She hung her head in defeat.

There was a moment of reflective silence as the group thought of what Katie's words meant. "Well, we can at least take this waste to the Aurors," Angelina finally said, digging a toe into Flint's ribs. Even though she knew that he couldn't feel it because he was unconscious, it was still satisfying to her. "They need some good news and this'll probably give it to them."

"Here Katie, you can't Apparate yet," George told her. "You're going to need to hold onto my arm." Katie grasped George's arm tightly, closing her eyes. With a nod, the entire group Disapparated.

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Torches blazed along the walls when Oliver entered into the building. "Dramatic," he muttered, bringing out his wand and holding it in front of his face. His shadows were cast down along the hallway, making him seem taller than he was. The illusion gave him a ridiculous sense of bravery. This sensation was immediately gone when he heard the creak of footsteps on the floorboards. "Show yourself," he commanded, straightening his back.

"Brave little boy," the voice crooned at him, like a mother would. Goosebumps spread all over Oliver's skin as he shuddered in revulsion. These…people had taken his wonderful parents from him. They would pay for that. "Has he come here all alone, looking for his girlfriend?"

"Where is she?" Oliver bellowed, forgetting himself for a moment. "Where the hell are you keeping her?" The voice snickered, coming from behind him, now in front of him, and now right beside him.

"Aw…does he love her?" it sneered at him. Oliver felt his breath becoming ragged with the force of his hatred. He tried to bring himself under control, telling himself that him losing control was the voice's goal, but he could not harness control of his emotions. He was a proud man and being taunted, especially about Alicia's whereabouts, was more than he could handle.

"Come out and face me," he said quietly, slowly gaining control of himself. "If you had any sort of courage at all, you'd come out here instead of lurking in the shadows. What, are you afraid that I'll beat you?"

"No, I'm afraid that I'll kill you before my Master has a chance to kill you," the voice drawled. Oliver finally felt that he could pin down the source and he whirled to his right, light blossoming to the end of his wand before he realized what had happened. The sneering face of Bellatrix Lestrange was revealed in his wand light. "You," Oliver hissed, instantly recognizing the face of the woman who had been spoken of with almost as much fear as Voldemort himself.

"Indeed," she drawled, sounding bored with the entire exchange. Her wand was leveled firmly at his chest. "I was supposed to escort you to the Dark Lord, but now that I see you I'm almost tempted to disobey...and I never disobey boy," she whispered, a mad gleam sharpening in her eyes.

"Bella!" a sharp voice called. Oliver looked beyond the mad woman to see Lucius Malfoy striding forward. "Don't you dare disobey the Dark Lord's orders. He'll have your head for sure. The boy is to be brought to the Dark Lord, alive, and unhurt," he said, correctly interpreting Bellatrix's sudden interest. Her shoulders slumped down once more.

Oliver lifted the corner of his lip in disdain at Malfoy. "You'll never get me to see that bastard," he said softly. "He killed my parents. The only way I'm going to see that prick that you call your master is if I'm going in there myself to kill him." Lucius shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he looked at Oliver.

"You have a good deal of bravery, but no sense of delicacy," he whispered. "One day it will get you into a great deal of trouble. And I'm afraid that you will indeed be meeting the Dark Lord today. _Imperio!_" he shouted suddenly, pointing his wand at Oliver's forehead. Oliver, who had been unprepared for the curse, felt his mind being wiped blissfully blank. All of the strategies that Moody had taught him in order to combat the Imperius Curse went out of his head, along with all of his rational thought.

_Walk forward, _a deep voice commanded him. _Walk forward alone the hallway._

_Why not? _His mind asked. _Doesn't seem such a bad, terrible, unreasonable request. No problem. _

_Walk forward, _the voice said soothingly. _Just walk forward and soon everything will be over. _

Oliver walked forward haltingly, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled. His brown eyes were glazed and unfocused. Lucius smirked in satisfaction as he recognized his Imperius Curse being followed perfectly. Bellatrix lurked at his elbow glaring up at him. He turned to glance at her. "Bellatrix, my sister-in-law you may be, but keep on glaring at me that way, and I swear to the Dark Mark that I'll place the Crutacius Curse on you," he said evenly.

In that one moment of inattention to his curse, Oliver's toe hit a small imperfection in the floor. At that, his rational mind was able to awaken and take a look at the situation. _Wait a moment, why am I following this request? _It asked Oliver. _This is stupid. You know that Voldemort's ahead. You shouldn't be walking forward. You should be going somewhere else where you can find Alicia. I can't believe that you were that stupid to go along with that. _

Lucius realized what had happened and he quickly tried to reinstate control over Oliver. _Walk forward! _He commanded forcefully, but Oliver's mind had awoken to the point where it could easily fight off the curse.

_No, I WON'T!_ It shouted back, and Oliver's eyes regained their normal focus. He jumped down a narrow hallway, dodging the curses that the two Death Eaters sent after him. Each curse was coming closer and closer to hitting him. He ducked down a hallway, propelled in part by the shock wave of the curse that had missed his ankle by a centimeter, if that.

He panted, but knew that there was no time to relax or even to breathe. He had to keep running. He ran down the long, labyrinth hallway. He kept on glancing over his shoulder, sure that the Death Eaters were right behind him. His breath was coming in harsh gasps. He pointed his wand at a door. "_Re…Reducto!"_ he gasped out, his lungs feeling like they were on fire. The door burst into pieces, and Oliver dove into the room, quickly using his rudimentary Transfiguration skills to put a shoddy wall in its place.

He turned and looked at the room. One thing immediately caught his eye. There was a small huddled form in the corner. "Alicia?" he asked, moving towards the person. "Alicia, oh Merlin, please be all right…" he touched the soft, giving flesh, and rolled the person over.

It was Alicia. Oliver held her and quickly lit his wand to check her over for bruises. She did not appear to be physically hurt, but Voldemort's followers had ways of torturing you with which you could still look like you were ready to go out on a Sunday afternoon. She moaned slightly and turned her head. Her eyes slowly opened and focused on him. "Oliver?" she asked in confusion. Her eyes sharpened, and she sat up, pushing Oliver away.

"You shouldn't be here," she said harshly. Oliver was still reeling from her quick recovery and did not say anything. "You need to get out now, Disapparate if you can. You shouldn't be here, I hoped that you wouldn't come…" she ran her hands through her dirty blonde hair in desperation.

"Wait a second," Oliver said slowly, trying to figure out why she was so worried. "I'm not leaving without you," he stated firmly. "I came here for you, and I'm not leaving with you."

"That's the problem!" Alicia cried, grabbing his shoulder. "They wanted you here, that's why they took me! They don't care about me at all, they just want you!"

"And what do you think would happen to you if I didn't come?" Oliver asked her quietly. "If his plan doesn't work then Voldemort just gets rid of what doesn't work and starts again with a blank board. He'll kill you Alicia! I can't let that happen to you," he told her quietly, touching her shoulder gently.

"You shouldn't have come here," Alicia stubbornly repeated, and Oliver's shoulders stiffened and then she continued softly. "But I'm glad you did," she admitted. Oliver could swear that he saw a soft smile on her face in the weak light. He shook his head.

"Well, I'm a Scot," he told her laughingly. "And a Gryffindor. I guess that means that I'm stupider than the average person." He shrugged and shook his head. "I would try to Apparate, but something tells me that Voldemort has put rather…er…painful restrictions on those who would try to Apparate."

"The Death Eaters are going to know where you are," Alicia told Oliver. "There are only so many rooms down this hallway and eventually they're going to know where you went."

"I've got to get out of here before they find out where I've gone," Oliver pondered aloud. "If I'm with you when they find me then they'll kill you, just to spite me." Alicia opened her mouth to say something but Oliver stopped her. "Alicia, these are the people who killed my parents just because they were my parents. They'll kill you, I know they will. Since when has Voldemort had a soft spot in his heart?"

There was a pounding on the door. Oliver looked fearfully at it. There was nothing else for it. He had to go. He turned back to Alicia, and on a whim, cupped her cheek. "I'll get you out of here," he promised, his breath coming out in a violent hiss. "I promise that I'm going to get you out of here."

He pointed his wand at the door. "_Reducto!" _he shouted, and the wall that he had built blew apart. The Death Eaters were momentarily stunned and this gave Oliver enough of an opportunity to shove through them and down the hallway. He thought that he was going to make it into another room when he felt his feet slipping out from underneath him. He yelped as he was pulled up by his ankle.

"Well, look what we caught," Bellatrix drawled, walking up to where Oliver was suspended in mid-air. She ran her fingers laughingly down his cheeks and kissed his forehead. "Come on little Quidditch player," she teased him, flicking her wand forward. Oliver felt himself moving forward and he swung back and forth like a pendulum as he was moved forward. He came to rest in a room that was lit better than the others.

As Oliver looked around from his limited viewpoint he could see why the room was better lit than the others. It was because the most feared wizard in the entire world was sitting in it. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Wood come back to join us," Voldemort whispered, running his finger down Oliver's cheek slowly. Oliver shook his head, trying to get the taint of Voldemort's touch off of him.

"Let her go," Oliver demanded, glaring at Voldemort, even though the blood was rushing to his head and making him light-headed. Voldemort threw his head back and laughed. His laugh could make nails on a chalkboard seem pleasant. The Death Eaters took their cue from Voldemort and began to laugh as well until the entire room was surrounded by cruel mirth.

"So brave," Voldemort said slowly, almost as if he was sadistically amused at Oliver's impudence. "Why should I let her go?" he asked, shifting his eyes to the entrance. Oliver saw Alicia being brought in the same way that he had been. Her eyes met his and they spoke volumes between them. _I'm sorry, _Oliver apologized with his eyes. _Oh God Alicia, I'm so sorry…I thought that I was going to be able to save you…I was wrong._

"I'm going to kill you," Oliver promised through clenched teeth. "I'm going to kill you one day." Voldemort chuckled and shook his head and Oliver knew that his bluff had fallen on ears who had heard the same promise many times before.

"Little girls break so easily," Voldemort commented, pulling his finger down Alicia's cheek. Some enchantment that he had laid on his fingers allowed a line of crimson blood to spill out of the line that he had drawn on her cheek. Alicia winced in pain but did not cry out. Oliver shook with rage and helplessness. He struggled against the enchantment that was keeping him immobile, but could do nothing against it.

"Besides, why not show you what your folly has lost you yet again?" Voldemort asked, pulling out his wand and pointing it at Alicia. "I did warn you, you foolish boy about what would happen if you chose to defy me. I also showed that I would not be afraid to go through with my promises. I think you need another reminder of the simple fact that Lord Voldemort always has his way…and that nothing shall ever stand between him and his ultimate goal," Voldemort whispered, squinting his red eyes hatefully at Oliver's direction. He leveled his wand at Alicia and smirked at Oliver before crying out "Crucio!"

Alicia was rocked back against the jinx that held her. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she could not hold in her screams of agony. Oliver was swearing and cursing at Voldemort, offering all sorts of promises and pleas if only he would let Alicia go…He finally pulled his wand off of Alicia and looked at her trembling form. The jinx that was holding her upside down was removed and she dropped to the floor in a sobbing heap. Voldemort laughed sadistically at her.

"This is what happens to those that attempt to stand against Lord Voldemort," he proclaimed loudly. He opened his mouth, taking in a deep breath so that he could kill Alicia and Oliver was screaming and Bellatrix was laughing and Oliver was screaming and crying and Alicia was sobbing and all she could think about was how she was never going to see him smile again or see any of her friends…

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The friends Apparated into the entrance of the Ministry. There were some odd looks thrown into their direction when they saw what was coming along with them, but there were stranger things seen at the Ministry and most walked by. Some seemed to recognize Flint from Quidditch and pointed and whispered. "All right, where are the Auror headquarters?" George huffed, still pointing his wand at Flint.

"They're right up here," Angelina said automatically, stepping forward onto the lift and punching in a button. The rest stared at her in amazement before realizing that they had to jump on the lift as well.

"How'd you know where to find the Aurors?" Fred asked accusingly. "George and I have a father in the Ministry and we don't know where everything is."

"Well, it all comes back to you eventually," Angelina murmured, staring at the bright buttons on the side of the lift. The twins knew when not to pursue a subject and let Angelina stare at the wall in peace. The door opened and the twins and Lee shoved Flint out into the brightly lit area where the Dark Wizard catchers worked. There was a slight disturbance as some of the Aurors recognized a Quidditch player. There was even more of a disturbance when Angelina loudly announced "We have a Death Eater for you lovely folks."

There was an immediate stir as the Aurors sought to surround Flint, wands flying out from robe pockets everywhere. There were questions fired at them, such as "How could they support this claim?" "Didn't they know the rules about approaching Death Eaters?" "How did they know that he was a Death Eater?" Katie raised her wand and shot a few red sparks in the air and all of the annoying questions abruptly ended.

"This is a Death Eater," she said simply. "You can take him into the cell and question him at your pleasure. Meanwhile, we have several things to tell you, all of them important, so your questions can just wait. We can answer your questions, just not now. First off, are Tonks and Kingsley here?"

The Aurors looked back and forth between each other, shaking their heads. One brave soul finally spoke up. "They're not here and I don't think that anyone knows where they've gone."

"Great," Fred moaned. Lee looked between them in confusion.

"What's going on?" he asked. Katie looked at him and smiled sympathetically.

"Did you think that we were just going to let Oliver go in there and rescue Alicia alone?" she asked kindly. "We never had the slightest intention of leaving him alone with the Death Eaters and Voldemort. We're sending in the Aurors after him, enchantments be damned. They'll find a way through it. It would just be easier if we had a member of the Order of the Phoenix to because we wouldn't have explain everything to them. Besides, some the things that we've done are probably against some archaic law."

"Oh," Lee said, nodding like he understood. In reality he was so confused. Every new answer that he received seemed to raise ten new questions. There was a law about that predicament that he had learned his last year in Potions.

"If they're not here then I don't know where to find them," George said in frustration. Angelina's eyes were lighting up the way they did when she received a particularly good idea.

"You might not be able to find them, but I know someone who will," she said, kicking Flint once more for luck and sprinting down the hallway. Everyone managed to keep pace beside her, though poor Lee was panting all the way.

"Angelina, you do remember that the Ministry's not exactly on our Christmas card list?" Katie asked, clutching a stitch in her side. It had been entirely too long since she had done any strenuous exercise. She really must start getting back in shape for Quiddtich. "And forgive me if I'm wrong, but we don't like them very much either."

"Less talking, more running," Angelina commanded in her "Captain" tone. _She learned that tone from Oliver, _Katie thought with some satisfaction. "I know someone who'll help us. I know they will."

Fred and George were not complete strangers to the Ministry either, and started to recognize where they were going. "Angelina, this is down where the Minister works," George said urgently, lengthening his stride to run beside her. The teens swept past a witch whose arms were full of papers. "Sorry!" George called back as some of the papers fluttered out of her arms. She glared back at them and started to yell but before she could get the words out they were gone.

"I know," Angelina said simply, drawing to a stop in front of a desk. The person sitting at the desk was hidden behind a giant mound of papers and the only sound that could be heard was the desperate scratching of a quill over parchment. "Hey!" Angelina shouted loudly. A mop of red hair emerged from behind the pile of papers.

"Percy?" George asked angrily, getting ready to turn around and leave. Katie took his arm and kept him from walking away. "What makes you think that he's going to help us after he spent a year spitting down on us?"

"Because as much as it might pain both sides to admit it, he was wrong and he realizes that after all this, he still loves you. I know how much of a disappointment that must be," she said tartly to George and Percy both. Percy had been staring down at the desk, but at the end of Angelina's statement looked up.

"She's right you know," he said quietly. "I do want to help and I am sorry about what happened. And much as it pains me to admit it, I love you just as much now as when I watched Mum and Dad bring you out of the hospital room in St. Mungo's." a slight, sad smile quirked at the corner of his lips.

There was an uncomfortable silence, which was broken by Lee's small cough. "I know that this is uncomfortable, but can we just try to focus on this later?" he asked all present. "If what you all say is true then we don't have a lot of time and we're rapidly running out of it."

"What do you need?" Percy asked, efficiently shoving his chair underneath his desk.

"We need the locations of two Aurors, one Nyhmpadora Tonks and one Kingsley Shacklebolt," Angelina said crisply. "They're part of a special group of Dumbledore's that would know the location of one of its members. That member is in trouble and we need to find him as soon as possible and with proper help as we suspect that there are Death Eaters as well as a strong possibility that Lord Voldemort himself is in the location as well. How would we go around getting that information?"

"Since the return of the Dark Lord," Percy said, stressing the significance of the name Dark Lord, as if to reprimand them for using his proper name. "Since his return the Aurors have had to carry special watches on their persons at every time of the day, so if the Minister needs them on a moment's notice he can touch the corresponding watch on his wrist and speak their name. It's quite simple yet really ingenious."

"And we need access to the minister, which you can get," Katie stated simply. Percy smiled sadly.

"Yes, although he hasn't been that warm towards me since he's figured out that I may be in contact with my family once more. No matter how much he knows that Dumbledore was right and that he was wrong, it's still hard for any human to admit that. But I'll see what I can do."

Percy tapped his desk with his wand three times and a small bubble of Fudge's face appeared in the air. "Yes Weasley?" he asked, sounding distracted. "Make it quick please; I have a large amount on my plate."

"Sir, I'm going to need you to summon Tonks and Shacklebolt," Percy said crisply and Fred had to marvel at just how good his older brother was at this clerical work. Who would've thought? "There's an emergency about the whereabouts of Lord Voldemort and some of his Death Eaters. Several citizens have reported some suspicious things happening."

"Yes, of course!" Fudge said, throwing his arms up in the air. "If there is ever any chance that we might know where You-Know-Who is hiding we send our entire force! I don't care whether or not it's some insane Squib who thinks that Inferi are walking down Main Street!" Fudge ended the conversation on this note. Percy turned around, a slight smile playing on his face.

"They'll be here in just a few moments," he said quietly. He noticed their shocked looks and smiled serenely. "It seems that some of us in the Ministry are feeling a little overworked," he said, sitting down at his desk to do some paperwork. "Don't worry. The Aurors will be here in just a few moments," he repeated.

Angelina bit her lip nervously as she looked around. She hoped that they would get here as quickly as they could, because she didn't think that Oliver had a lot of time left…


End file.
